


Darker the Night

by mishaberlioz



Series: The Watches [1]
Category: Nochnoy Dozor | Night Watch - Sergei Lukyanenko, Nochnoy Dozor | Watch Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lesbian Character, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Murder Mystery, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaberlioz/pseuds/mishaberlioz
Summary: It's Halloween 2000, and Anton has started seeing visions. Violent, disturbing visions. His friends think he needs a vacation, but Anton is convinced the visions are connected to his latest case.To complicate matters, he's been assigned to work with Marten Vesik, an enigmatic Dark Magician with a mysterious past. Anton can't stand the guy, and is convinced he's mixed up in some scheme. That's probably why he can't stop thinking about him...
Relationships: Anton Gorodetsky/Original Character(s)
Series: The Watches [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801072
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Why I Hate Halloween

The darker the night, the brighter the stars

The deeper the grief, the closer is God!

\- Dostoyevsky

_October 1999_

_Prologue_

Vadim Korostelev was not often troubled by pangs of conscience.

He wasn’t a monster, he didn’t stab people in the back for fun. He just did what he had to do. Times were hard, and a man had to look out for himself.

He stared up at the half-constructed condominium as the last concrete truck rumbled towards the street. Next to the building, the pump truck operator was slowly taking down the boom. Vadim scowled and lit a cigarette. It wasn’t easy being the owner. Every day the project dragged on was money out of his pocket, and not just the construction costs. There were the unofficial ‘service fees’ he had to pay to City officials to get his permits renewed. And of course, the local crime bosses had to be given their due if he expected to stay on decent terms with them. 

The back of his neck prickled, and Vadim cast a glance behind him and peered into the half-constructed ground floor. It was a cavernous, unlit expanse of bare concrete. The support columns cast strange shadows and he had the strange feeling that someone was watching him from the darkness....

Vadim turned away abruptly. He’d been feeling jittery all day, probably because of that freak Vesik. The only reason Vadim put up with him was that he was such a good foreman. The guy hated his guts and didn’t even bother trying to hide it. And besides all that, there was something about him that felt... _wrong._ Almost as if he wasn’t quite human…

Vadim gave himself a shake. What was the matter with him? He had enough to think about without getting caught up in superstition.

He moved away from the structure and peered upwards. The workers were busy finishing the freshly poured slab, and Vesik was probably up to his knees in concrete with the rest of the guys. He’d be nowhere in sight when you needed him, and then appear behind you when you were least expecting it. He knew his business all right, but he had an irritating habit of shutting down work at the slightest provocation. A bit of rain never hurt anyone…

One thing was for sure, the guy needed to be taken down a peg. But the two guys Vadim had sent after him had ended up in hospital...

Vadim spat on the ground and started towards his car. Then someone spoke behind him.

_Hello, Vadim._

The voice sent shivers down his spine; it was low and quiet, with an edge of danger. Goosebumps prickled on his arms. 

He glanced behind himself and froze, unable to move. Black eyes bored into him and he felt cold all over. 

“Who…” he swallowed hard. “What are you? What do you want with me?”

 _I am the reckoning, Vadim._ A hand touched his forehead, icy cold. _You will return here. Ten tonight, I will be waiting for you at the top. Come alone._

“I will come tonight,’ Vadim repeated obediently. “I will come alone.”

_Forget you ever saw me._

“I will forget I saw you.” 

Vadim blinked. He was standing by himself near the building. The site was nearly empty - the workers were already walking towards the Metro. He looked around dizzily, wondering what had happened. Had he really just zoned out?

Never mind that. Vadim shook his head and started towards his car. He was a busy man - there was no time to waste standing around. 

**

They say some things are an acquired taste, but after all this time, pig’s blood still didn’t taste any better. 

I sighed and downed the vial in one go. When Gesar had sent me out on my first vampire job nearly a year before, I’d thought it would be over in a few days. And it was, but ever since then, every case involving vampires seemed to end up on my desk. I didn’t exactly fight it. Someone had to do it, and I’m not one to pass off unpleasant jobs to my coworkers. 

As for this case - Gesar hadn’t even had to assign it to me. I’d taken it on myself. _Anton Gorodetsky, Vampire Hunter._

I rinsed the vial off in the sink and wandered over to the window. The day had been damp and the wet asphalt gleamed red in the dying light. I could tell from the way people were walking, with their heads bent and their hands jammed in their pockets, that it was chilly, too. 

Lovely. It’s days like these that I feel really lucky to have this job. 

But there was no time to stand around brooding - my shift was about to start. I unlocked my cabinet with a spell and found my pistol and holster. Then I chose a few other amulets and put them in my pockets. 

On the way out, I grabbed my orange jacket. My coworkers can laugh all they like - it may not look cool, but at least it makes me easy for motorists to spot. We all know there’s a possibility that this job might cost us our lives - but I’d rather not die because some idiot forgot to look around before running a red light. 

I left my apartment and got onto the first bus to pull up. Rush hour was long over, so we made good time, speeding past a trolleybus trundling along the central lane. 

I rode for a couple of hours, changing buses at random. I could have slipped into the Twilight to avoid paying my fare, but I like to do my bit to support our public transit system. I figure it needs all the help it can get.

By eleven that night, the only other passengers on the bus were a handful of young people talking loudly. They were dressed for the nightclubs, but some of them had supplemented their outfits with animal ears and face paint. Halloween, I thought in disgust. It was only the twenty-fourth and they were already in costume. I hadn’t thought this nonsense would catch on in Russia, but stranger things had happened in recent years. 

But kids playing dress-up were the least of my worries. The Dark Ones liked to go on rampages this time of year, claiming that the Dark energies reached a peak on Samhain night. Oddly enough, the Dark energies only began this behaviour after 1991.

The costumed hooligans stayed on for another couple of stops, and then piled off en masse. The bus seemed very quiet without them. I gazed out at the rainy streets and wondered if I was just seeing trouble where there was none. All my coworkers thought I was losing it, even if they wouldn’t say so. And sometimes I wondered if they were right. 

I could see how it must look - to start hunting a vampire when no murders had been reported and no bodies had turned up. And my only information was from other vampires, who weren’t exactly known for their honesty….

But vampires weren’t known for their teamwork skills either, I reminded myself. A vampire wouldn’t hesitate to give me a false lead to trip me up. But the odds of _three_ of them colluding to lead me astray were very slim. There was no way around it - I had to investigate.

The empty streets rolled by outside the window. There was nothing much to see except my own reflection, so I amused myself by pulling faces at a small child seated beside his granny a few rows ahead. The child pulled up the tip of his nose and grunted like a pig, drawing his grandmother's attention. I stared fixedly out the window, my face burning, but I could feel her eyes boring into the side of my head. 

To my relief, they got down at the next stop. I stayed on three or four stops longer, and that was when I heard it. A soft, sweet melody, filtering in through the open door. But this wasn’t some ordinary street musician. This music wasn’t human in origin. This was a vampire on the hunt, calling to its prey. 

I jumped to my feet but the doors had shut and the bus was already pulling away from the curb.

_No!_

Cursing under my breath, I dashed to the front of the bus. “Stop!” I shouted. “Stop the bus! I need to get off!”

The driver gave me an uninterested look. “No unscheduled stops. You can get off at the next one -”

“Please, it’s an emergency!” I blurted out the first thing that came into my head: “My wife’s in labour! I need to get home!”

I couldn’t hear what he was saying because the music was roaring in my ears. But either he took pity or wanted to get rid of me, because at the next red light the doors hissed open. 

“Watch it!” he shouted after me. “Don’t get hit!”

I bounded down the steps and ran between the stopped cars onto the sidewalk. Every muscle in my body wanted to give chase, but I forced myself to slow down and dial Garik’s number on my mobile. I knew what could happen when I neglected to call for backup. 

As soon as he picked up, I blurted out my location and jammed my mobile back in my pocket. I started to run. My blood was singing with a strange, ancient thrill. The chase was on! 

People jumped out of my way and I hardly noticed. I ran full-tilt, the wind cold in my face, barely feeling the cold air burning my lungs. The only sound was the Call, filling my ears and echoing inside my head. I had run into most of the registered vampires a few times, and I could recognize their voices. This one was new. Unfamiliar...

The Call was louder now. I was getting close, but I still wouldn’t make it there fast enough. At least not in the normal world. 

The streetlamps cast pools of dingy yellow light. I stopped running and my shadow stretched out below me. I reached out for it, and it rose up and swallowed me whole. 

At once, the world around me shifted into greyscale, like an old photograph. Everything had slowed down. The pedestrians and the cars inched along sluggishly, as if they were moving through gelatin. Time moves faster in the Twilight realm, so you can cover ground in a fraction of the time. 

I started to run again. The air was even colder in here and I could feel my energy seeping away. As I ran, I glanced at the pedestrians, with their auras shimmering around them like multicoloured halos. All perfectly ordinary - tired, hungry people on their way back from work, eager to get home and flop down in front of the television. I couldn’t blame them, either. I wouldn’t mind doing the same. 

The pedestrians thinned out as I turned down a side street. I ran along steadily for a few minutes, and then I began to sense a disturbance in the Twilight. Something was disrupting it, sending ripples through it like a pebble in a pond. 

I skidded round a corner, and there they were. Two male vampires, one very young and one a bit older. I cursed under my breath. These weren’t the ones I was after - one was Sergei Volkov, a registered vampire, and the other I vaguely remembered as one of the newer initiates. 

They were standing in a dark alley. Volkov was holding an unresisting young man by the coat lapels and slowly lowering his head towards his exposed throat. I felt my own mouth fill with saliva…

I flipped open my badge and held it out. “Night Watch! Leave the Twilight!"

Volkov’s head snapped towards me. He hissed in rage and for a second I saw unbridled madness in his eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone.

The initiate, on the other hand, was staring at me with unconcealed hatred and literally foaming at the mouth. Any second now, he could lose control and attack the boy or me.

“Anton,” Volkov said perfectly pleasantly. “Nice running into you. How have you - “

“Enough,” I barked. “License and registration seals.”

The initiate snarled and Volkov gave him a quelling look. “Viktor, cooperate. Anton’s a friend.”

He shot a mischievous glance at me and I fought down a surge of rage. He was only trying to get under my skin. 

“I’m not your friend,” I said coldly. “You would be a fool to think I am.”

Volkov’s smile faltered, but he hid his unease under an affected shrug. “If you say so,” he said. “Here you are.”

He unzipped his jacket and undid his shirt, and his companion grudgingly did the same. I closed my eyes and looked at them through the Twilight. Their auras were dark and terrible to look at, and each of them had a registration seal glowing bright on his chest. Volkov handed over their hunting license, and I checked it against the victim’s internal passport. Alexei Mikhailov, twenty-one years old, chemistry student. Everything was in order.

Alexei Mikhailov looked at me imploringly. He was still under the influence of the Call, but his eyes were wide and terrified. He stared at me like I was his last hope, like he was asking me to do something.

But there was nothing I could do. Volkov had a license for him, so he was entitled to drink his blood and even kill him and there was nothing I could do about it. If I tried to stop it, I’d be arrested. The vampires might even get an extra license in compensation. 

“Well?” Volkov asked. “Everything in order? My friend is getting a little impatient, we don’t want to keep him waiting…”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at the young man, but I could feel his eyes on me. Another face to haunt my nightmares. I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. There was nothing I could do to save him, but if I played things right, maybe I could minimize the damage.

“Everything is in order,”I said curtly. “I would also like to remind you that only three hundred mililitres each are required to sustain your needs, and it would be wasteful and pointless to take any more. Not to mention inhumane…”

“What do we care about being humane? We’re not human.” Volkov laughed. “Why can’t we indulge ourselves a little? Although...we might consider sparing the boy if you put in a good word for us with the people who issue licenses.”

“I don’t _put in words,”_ I growled. “But I’ll make a note in your file.”

“Good enough,” Volkov said, and winked at me. “We’ll save you some if you like…” Seeing the look on my face, he flinched and fell silent. “All right, maybe not.”

“Get on with it,” I said in a low voice. “Before I lose my patience.”

Volkov frowned. “Are you planning to watch? You’re making me lose my appetite.”

I didn’t want to stay, but I couldn’t abandon the boy. I had handed him over to these animals, the least I could do was stay and watch over him.

I moved a bit closer to stand behind the young man. “I’ll stay. In case you forget to stop.”

Mikhailov twisted to stare at me, his eyes bright and accusing in his pale face. “You bastard.”

But then his expression changed, and the fear and anger melted away to be replaced by a blissful calm. It’s something about a vampire’s magic, it ensnares the victim so that they no longer want to get away. Volkov lowered his head.

It didn’t take them long, Volkov first and then the novice. They drew back, their faces flushed with stolen blood. The young guy swayed and nearly fell, and I caught him under the arms. Blood dripped slowly from the wounds on his neck. He had passed out, either from terror or blood loss. I was feeling a bit dizzy myself.

To my disgust, the vampires were cheerful and giddy, nudging each other and laughing as if they were slightly drunk. 

“Don’t glare at us like that,” Volkov said, grinning at me. “You have no idea how hard it is to get a license for Samhain week. Can you blame us for enjoying ourselves?”

“Yes,” I said coldly. “This week is no different from any other. You told me so yourself, last time I saw you. So what does it matter?”

A brief look of confusion flickered across his face. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I just got this feeling that I’d like to go hunting tonight. It just _feels_ spooky, don’t you think?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just set my jaw and stared at the ground. Volkov chortled.

“Not in a chatty mood, are you?” he said. “Well, we’d best be off. Have a good one, Anton.”

Grinning, they disappeared into the Twilight.

I bent down and gently lowered the boy to the ground. I took off my jacket and put it over him, and healed the small wounds on his neck. Then I called the office to send a team over.

I put my mobile away and looked at the boy. His skin was a sickly grey. Even unconscious, his face seemed to accuse me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him quietly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

But the young man was silent.

**

A few hours later, I was sitting in a grubby little restaurant, drinking vodka and watching rain spatter against the window. The sun was just coming up, streaking the sky with pink and grey. 

I’d been there a couple of times before, and the vodka was just as mediocre as I remembered. The waiter was a new guy, maybe a university student, and I couldn’t help thinking about Alexei Mikhailov. I rubbed my eyes and tried to push the image out of my mind. _Leave me alone, kid...there was nothing I could do for you…_

The thought didn’t hurt as much as it once would have. I couldn’t save the boy. I could have fought off the vampires easily enough, but they had the law on their side. They’d come back for the boy another day. They might even get an extra license in compensation. As for me, I’d be punished. Five years without magic if I was lucky, dematerialization if I wasn’t. And then I’d be of no use to anyone.

I took a sip of my vodka. I had done what I could for the boy. I had stopped them from killing him and healed his injuries. My colleagues had wiped his memories so he wouldn’t even remember what had happened. I had done the right thing, the sensible thing.

So why did I still feel like a murderer?

The restaurant wasn’t too crowded at that time of the morning, but there were a handful of old-timers drinking coffee and arguing about football. I tried to make out what they were saying, but it all sounded a bit foggy. Things were beginning to look a bit blurred, too, and I tried to remember how much vodka I’d had. Just one...or maybe it was two. That was fine. One more wouldn't hurt.

I caught the waiter’s eye and he refilled my glass. I drained it in one go. It burned all the way down, and I felt like I was beginning to thaw out after the chill outside. Things were starting to look a bit brighter. So the case wasn’t going smoothly - that wasn’t new. I just had to keep at it and something would turn up…

I shifted restlessly in my seat. For some reason, I felt like going on a bender. I wanted to get drunk and go home with some girl or guy who didn’t know about the Light or the Dark or the Watches...just forget about all of that and let the humans fend for themselves for a few hours...

Unfortunately, I wasn't the kind of reprobate to go on benders at eight in the morning. Besides, it had been a few years since I’d done that kind of thing and I had a feeling that I was getting too old. 

I don’t know how long I sat there, staring out at the traffic. The old guys got up and left, and a bunch of construction workers took their places. Outside, an older lady parked in a no-parking zone and was accosted by a militiaman, and a young woman tottered up in high heels and tried to flag down a car. 

I frowned. She was obviously drunk, and dressed in a short black dress that was completely unsuitable for the weather. No one had stopped yet, but the militiaman caught sight of her and looked her up and down. I didn’t like the look on his face one bit.

Well, I couldn’t just leave her there. Sighing, I pushed myself to my feet and nearly fell back down again. I leaned against the table until the room stopped spinning. What the hell was the matter with me? I hadn’t had that much to drink…

I put a bill down on the table and walked out as steadily as I could manage. 

“Hey!” I called out. “Annushka! Where have you been?”

The militiaman took notice as well, and I gave him my politest smile. “Everything’s okay, Officer,” I said, as distinctly as I could manage. “My...cousin...just got herself a bit lost.”

The girl gave me a confused look and I could tell she was about to blurt out something unfortunate. 

“Everything’s okay,” I repeated, and dropped my jacket over her shoulders. “I’ll make sure she gets home safely. Isn’t that right, _Annushka?”_

Finally, she seemed to get it. “Sure,” she giggled. “This is my cousin, Mitya.”

The policeman looked at me skeptically. “You don’t look in great shape yourself,” he said. “I’m not sure I should let her leave with you…”

“We’re fine,” I said coldly. “Don’t let us keep you.” 

Whatever he saw in my eyes made him take a few hurried steps back. “R-right, well, take a taxi!” he blustered. “Don’t go driving in the state you’re in! That’s how you end up in a crash…” 

I didn’t answer, and he turned and scuttled off. The girl put her arms around my neck and leaned against me, nearly throwing me off balance.

“Thanks for saving me, _cousin.”_ She looked up at me and giggled. “You’re pretty cute. We even look alike.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. It was impossible to tell whether she resembled me or anyone else, because her makeup was smudged all over her face. “Look, can you call a friend to pick you up? You can use my mobile.”

“Can’t you take me home, Mitya?”

She looked up at me sadly, and I averted my eyes out of habit. “No,” I said curtly. “My name’s not Mitya, and I’m busy. Who should I call for you?”

“No one,” she sighed. “I’m alone in the world.” And she leaned more heavily against me.

Light and Dark, this was too much. I didn’t have time to go riding all over town with her, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d forgotten where she lived. And I didn’t think it would be a good idea to put her in a taxi alone, either. 

There was only one thing for it.

“Just hold on,” I said, taking out my mobile. “I’m going to call....someone from work. A friend.”

Tiger Cub was probably on shift, but maybe Alisher or Lena? It didn’t really matter, I trusted them all equally. 

The girl looked up at me. “You don’t need to do that,” she said anxiously. “I don’t...want to bother anyone…”

“It’s not a bother,” I lied. “My friends are nice people, they’ll see that you get home safely.”

I took out my phone and began to dial, and she pulled sharply away.

“Hey!” I said, startled. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer, just hurried off down the sidewalk. 

“You can’t just go off like that!” I called. “You’re drunk!”

She quickened her steps and I cursed under my breath. I couldn’t just let her wander off in that state. I started after her and nearly fell over. The world spun crazily around me.

I wasn’t going to catch her, I knew that. So I did the first thing that came into my head. I summoned the Twilight, called up every single protection spell I knew and cast them all at once. 

Power flowed through me. The feeling was heady, exhilarating, and I forgot what I was doing...the Power was everywhere, the street had melted away, and - and - 

The ground slid out from under my feet and I fell into emptiness.

**

“I don’t even know what to say,” Tiger Cub sighed. 

We were in the alley beside the restaurant, next to a couple of large rubbish tips. I was slumped against the wall, trying not to be sick, and Tiger Cub was sitting on an empty crate beside me. I wasn’t sure what spell she had used to reanimate me, but my head felt a lot clearer than before.

“I’m sorry,” I groaned. “She started to run off and I just panicked.”

“I can understand that,” Tiger Cub said. “But why would you cast such a strong spell drunk?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I mumbled. “She was getting away from me...it was just supposed to...guard? And protect? Or something? Christ, I’m an idiot.”

“At least if you knew what it did…” Tiger Cub shook her head. “I’ve got to tell the boss, Anton. We can’t just let her go wandering around with unidentified magic on her.”

“I know,” I said gloomily, imagining what Gesar would have to say. “When he kills me, you can have my CDs.”

Tiger Cub elbowed me lightly in the shoulder. “You know he’ll just rant a bit and be done with it. How much did you have to drink anyway?”

“Not that much,” I said. “Three at most. I think…” I hesitated. “I think the stuff I’m taking for this job is reducing my alcohol tolerance. I didn’t know it would do that.”

“You know what I think about that stuff,” she said, sounding resigned. “I suppose there’s no point suggesting that you stop.”

“I’ll stop as soon as we find the killer,” I said irritably. “We’ve been through this before -”

“Take it easy,” she said. “I’m not going to start an argument. You’d probably just throw up on me.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said without much confidence. “But thanks anyway.”

My hands were going numb, so I rubbed them together to warm them. The air had a real bite to it, and the dampness from the wall was starting to seep through my sweater. I glanced around for my jacket, and groaned when I remembered where it was.

“She’s got my jacket,” I said. “The girl. I put it on her since she wasn’t wearing much, and then she just ran off.”

“You mean the bright orange one, right?” Tiger Cub smiled. “Well, there’s one thing you did right. It’ll make her easier to spot.”


	2. The Vampire Next Door

I woke up at four in the afternoon, three hours before the start of my shift. My head felt as if someone were trying to hack their way out of it with an axe, and I knew there was no way I was going to fall asleep again. I lay there for a few minutes regretting all my life choices, then got up and stumbled into the kitchen.

I swallowed a couple of aspirins and started the kettle. While it was boiling, I rummaged around in the fridge and found a vial of pig’s blood. But the sight of it was enough to make my stomach heave, so I put it away.

Seated at the table, I tried to make sense of things. That morning’s debacle was a confused muddle in my mind. But the hot tea seemed to reanimate me a little, and bits and pieces of it started to come back. The restaurant, the drinking, and then then the alleyway and the girl…

What a disaster.

I remembered it all, the girl hurrying off down the alley, and my last-ditch effort to protect her...Light and Dark, I was an idiot. 

I felt a hot wave of embarrassment, wondering what I was going to say to Gesar. On my first field assignment, I’d impulsively drained my amulet trying to dispel a Black Vortex hanging over a stranger. I’d gotten a good talking-to for that, but this was even worse. 

But moping wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I’d made a mistake, and I’d have to face up to it. If they still hadn’t found the girl, I’d go back to that restaurant and see if I could figure out where she’d gone.

In the meantime, my headache was getting worse. Maybe some fresh air would help...I looked for my jacket, remembered that it was gone, and put on an old black one instead. I went very carefully down the stairs, trying not to jar my head too much. 

Outside, the sky was stained pink at the edges, and a light breeze cooled my face. I considered going for a walk, but decided I’d had enough exercise for the time being and lit a cigarette. 

“What’s the matter with you, Arkasha? You look terrible.”

I jumped, and someone set off a grenade between my ears. Or at least it felt that way. I closed my eyes and waited for the pain to subside, before turning around to see who had spoken. 

An old woman was sitting on a bench a couple of metres away. She was bundled up in a thick coat and scarf in spite of the mild weather. I knew who she was - she lived one floor up from me with her useless drunk of a son and two grandchildren. She spent a good deal of her time sitting on the bench in front of the apartment, paying avid attention to the residents’ comings and goings. Her mind was still quite sharp, even if she sometimes forgot that it wasn’t the seventies anymore.

“Good morning, Irina Petrovna,” I said politely. “How are you today?”

“Old,” she said bluntly. “These old bones don’t have long left. The Angel of Death came to visit this morning.”

I nearly inhaled my cigarette. “What?”

“The Angel of Death,” she repeated placidly. “He comes to see us sometimes. He’s got good manners, even if he’s not so nice to look at.” 

My skin crawled, and I felt a stab of pity; she was confusing her nightmares with real life. What a horrible dream to have.

“Don’t look so frightened,” she told me sternly. “When you get to my age, dying isn’t anything terrible. It’s just another appointment, like getting your passport renewed.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Everyone you knew is gone. And people start looking at you like you’re soft in the head. Sort of the way you’re looking at me now.”

I started guiltily. “What? No, I don’t, I -”

“Never mind, Arkasha.” She waved away my stammering. “You’re a good boy. You remind me of my son, my Mitenka. He’s such a hardworking boy.”

I didn’t answer. In some ways, the old woman’s faulty memory was a kindness. Two days ago, I’d seen the hard-working Mitenka sitting in the stairwell, too drunk to stand, abusing everyone who passed by. And when his daughter came out to help him, he’d snarled and called her a nagging bitch. I’ll never forget her face - small and pale, with that dull, unsurprised hurt in her eyes -

I pushed the thought aside. There was nothing I could do for her, but I could make the streets a little safer by finding the killer - 

_Unless there’s no killer at all,_ jeered a tiny voice in my head. _Maybe your colleagues are right, maybe you’re just chasing shadows…_

No. I’d made my choice, I’d taken the case, and I couldn’t waste time second-guessing myself. I had a job to do.

Irina Petrovna was engrossed in her knitting and seemed oblivious to me. She didn’t answer when I said goodbye. But as I was going in the door, she called out after me:

“Don’t forget to watch Comrade Khrushchev’s speech on the television today. You young people don’t understand what he’s doing for our country.”

`I went inside a bit after that. As I was fumbling with the keys to my apartment, I heard footsteps. My young neighbour, Konstantin Saushkin, was hurrying down the stairs towards me. When he saw me, he stopped in his tracks, looking as if he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. 

A cold lump formed in my chest. Kostya’s family lived two floors down from me, and I’d known him since he was a kid. We were friends for awhile, and it hadn’t mattered to either of us that he was a vampire and I was a Light Magician. But then Kostya grew up, and he’d understood that his friend Anton Gorodetsky hunted his kind for a living.

“Kostya,” I said after a moment. “Hello.”

“Hi, Anton.” His voice had an edge that had never been there before. “Killed any Dark Ones lately?”

“Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the answer,” I said, turning back to the door. 

“Wait a minute. What’s the matter with you?” He jumped down the last few stairs and peered at my face. “You look terrible. Are you hungover?”

“Yes,” I said irritably, wishing he’d go away. Why did he have to choose today to come and needle me?

But instead of making a cutting remark as I’d expected, Kostya just raised a hand towards my face and summoned the Twilight. The pain in my head began to fade away, and in a moment it was gone. 

I looked at him in astonishment and he stared back, his arms folded over his chest. It was the first time I’d really seen him in months, and he’d grown a lot taller. He looked older, too, possibly because he’d given up on growing a beard. 

“What?” he snapped. “Surprised a bloodsucker knows healing spells?”

“No, just a bit surprised that you’d use one on me,” I said. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he muttered. “I mean, it’s not like I hate you or anything.”

“Good to know.”

Kostya rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. I mean, I don’t _like_ that you kill vampires now, but…” 

He trailed off, scuffing his feet on the ground and avoiding my eyes. I could remember him acting like that as a kid, when there was something troubling him. And he was still very young, only eighteen.

“Anton,” he mumbled. “Can I...uh, are you busy right now?”

For a moment, I was too startled to answer. I thought he must really be in dire straits if he was willing to come to me for advice. 

“No,” I said, recovering myself. “I mean, I have some time before my shift. Come in.”

Kostya followed me into the apartment and took off his shoes, hovering awkwardly in the entrance. I went into the kitchen and started the kettle for tea. 

“How do you know how to fix hangovers?” I asked “I wouldn’t think you’d need to…” Kostya never got hangovers, for the simple reason that he didn’t drink. Alcohol was poison to vampires - which was probably why the vampire drugs caused alcohol intolerance. 

“We studied the physiological effects of alcohol in my neuroanatomy class,” Kostya said, shuffling into the kitchen. “And sometimes I practise healing my friends’ hangovers. I don’t tell them what I’m doing, obviously.”

“That’s nice of you,” I said, reaching for the kettle. “You still drink it black, don’t you?”

“I don’t want any.”

I glanced at him in surprise, and he stared back impassively. 

“Tea tastes disgusting to vampires,” he said flatly. “I’m not going to drink it just to seem more human.”

“All right,” I said after a moment. “That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

We went into the living room and I sat down on my armchair, trying to shake a vague feeling of unease. I knew that vampires couldn’t eat regular food, it tasted like ash to them. But I’d somehow assumed that tea was the exception. Kostya had always accepted it happily when I offered, and so had his parents…

Was that really why they did it? To seem more human?

I realized that I’d gotten lost in thought and Kostya was still standing awkwardly in the centre of the floor. 

“Come on, sit down.” I gestured towards the sofa and he sat, still looking uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to want to talk about his problem yet, so I thought I’d try to put him at ease.

“How have you been?” I asked. “How’s your research at the Institute?”

It was the right thing to say - his face lit up at once. Like most academics, Kostya could talk for hours about his work if given the chance. 

“It’s really good,” he said happily. “We’ve already gotten some interesting results. I’m giving a talk at an epigenetics conference next month.”

“Congratulations,” I said, impressed. “Your parents must be really proud.”

Kostya groaned and buried his face in his hands. “They’ve lost their minds. Mum sent copies of my paper to our entire family, and Dad told all the guys he works with. They’ve started calling me the Professor.”

“That’s...really nice,” I said quietly. “It’s just because they’re happy for you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kostya muttered. “It’s still embarrassing, though.”

“And how about your research on vampirism? Are you still working on that?”

“That’s what I was talking about,” he said, brightening. “It’s really cool. We found out that some of the enzymes in vampire venom activate a special kind of apoptosis mechanism that doesn’t cause any shrinkage or fragmentation of the cells. It basically just preserves them as they are indefinitely.”

“That’s amazing,” I said. “At least the parts I understood. So you’re thinking of reversing this process to cure vampirism?”

Kostya’s expression tightened. “No,” he said after a moment. “Apoptosis can’t be reversed. But there are potential avenues in treating degenerative diseases like Multiple Sclerosis, because it halts the progression of the damage -”

“Wait a minute...” I was starting to get a nasty suspicion. “What exactly does apoptosis mean?”

He hesitated. “It means...a termination of metabolic processes -”

“You mean death,” I said sharply. “You want to cure diseases by turning people into vampires.”

“That’s not it at all!” Kostya protested. “They don’t transform all the way, they can still eat ordinary food -”

“ _They?”_ I couldn’t believe it. _“_ You mean you’ve tried it already?”

“Only on mice,” Kostya said quickly. “The results were very encouraging. Most of the experimental subjects didn’t develop the Thirst -”

“You mean some of them _did?”_ I was on my feet, staring down at him. “You’ve created vampire mice, and you don’t see anything wrong with this?”

“This is why I don’t tell you things,” Kostya said sullenly. “When we use it on human beings, they’d be able to control their impulses -”

“You’ve lost your mind!” I snapped. “There’s no way you can use this on humans!”

Kostya’s eyes flashed. “You know what, never mind,” he said. “Forget I said anything.”

He stood up and tried to move past me, but I stepped in his path. “You’re playing with fire,” I said. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Yes, I do! I’m trying to help people -”

“You’re trying to kill them!” I shouted. “You’re turning them into monsters!”

“Vampires aren’t monsters! Not if we use our powers for good!”

I felt a wave of horror, remembering the scene from last night - Volkov lowering his head towards his victim’s neck, the terror in the young man’s eyes...

“There is _nothing_ good about your powers,” I snarled. “And if you go through with this, you are a monster.”

Kostya stared at me, his eyes wide and shocked. Then a look of cold fury settled onto his face. 

“You Light Ones,” he spat. “You’re so busy trying to keep us down that you don’t even think about how we could work together.” He took a step closer, glaring down at me. “How many murderers, rapists and psychos are there in Moscow? How much suffering could be removed if someone took them out of the picture?”

“Don’t change the subject,” I said angrily. “Murderers and rapists have nothing to do with your project -”

“It’s the same thing!” he shouted. “You blame us for harming innocent people, but who issues the licenses? You do! You could get rid of the lottery and issue licenses for people who do Evil, but you _choose_ not to. Why? Because then we’d actually be _useful,_ and it wouldn’t be so easy for you to kill us off like vermin!”

I stared at him, feeling cold all over. He had a point. The vampires didn’t choose their victims, after all. We did - we had a lottery. Random selection - it was supposed to be fair. And it was true - it _was_ easier to hunt vampires if you thought of them as senseless killers of innocent people…

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and that made me furious.

“Why are you saying all this to me?” I demanded. “You know I can’t change anything, but you come in here and lecture me -”

“I didn’t _come in,”_ Kostya snarled. “You had to invite me, remember? Because I’m a bloodsucker.”

“Listen, Kostya -”

“Forget it,” he said. “I won’t waste any more of your time.”

And before I could think of a single thing to say, he’d stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him. I sank down on the sofa and leaned my head on my hands. What had just happened? Had someone really allowed Kostya to make vampire mice? Were they really going to start experimenting on people?

Christ, what a mess. That stuff I was drinking must have been making me irritable, that was why I’d flown off the handle. Still, these vampire cases didn’t usually take long to solve. With a bit of luck, it would be all sorted out within a day or two. 

It wasn't until much later that I realized that I still didn't know what Kostya had wanted to tell me.


	3. Why I Continue to Hate Halloween

_One week later_

_So much for an easy job,_ I thought as I wandered into the break room carrying a stack of papers. 

I looked out the window at the street, where the evening rush hour was in full swing. The sun was already setting, painting the buildings in orange and crimson. I peeled back the aluminium foil cap of my vial of pig’s blood and downed it with a grimace.

It was never fun taking the stuff, but it was even worse this time. I was tense and irritable, although I thought I'd managed to hide it well enough. My dreams were full of blood and terror. Most of the time, I was chasing a suspect, usually Elena Dobrinina, the girl vampire from my first case. But once I even dreamed that I was a vampire myself, feeling my fangs puncture the skin and tasting blood in my mouth. I still hadn't heard the Call, and there was no sign of the killer.

And I wasn’t likely to make any headway tonight, either. Not only was it Halloween, it was also a Saturday, meaning that there would be plenty of young people out at the bars - easy prey for Dark Ones on the hunt. They’d tripled the patrols for the night shift, which meant that everyone working on other jobs had been reassigned. Including me. 

I’d tried to object, but they told me that I’d be of more use keeping order in the streets than hunting a killer that may or may not exist...

"Anton! There you are!"

The voice was Tiger Cub's, and I winced. I already knew what she was after - I’d completely forgotten about the incident report for my drunken spellcasting episode the previous week.

“Sorry, I haven’t filled out the form yet,” I said, turning to look at her. “Things were just crazy this week, and I didn’t get the chance -”

“It’s all right, I forgot it myself until Olga told me off. I’m not sure it matters at this point, since yours spells must have worn off, but anyway…” She held up a copy of our standard incident form. “She said she’d turn us both into snapping turtles if we didn’t hand it in by tonight.”

“Surely that would require an incident report as well,” I muttered, taking a seat at one of the tables. Tiger Cub sat down opposite me. For once, she didn’t look like she was going out on shift or coming back from one. Instead of her usual jeans and sweater, she was wearing black pants and a red shirt with ruffles. 

“You’re looking sharp,” I commented. “What’s the occasion? Got a date?"

Tiger Cub went bright red and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What was that?" I said innocently. "I didn't catch that."

"It's not a date. Natasha and I are having dinner, that's all."

"Sounds like a date to me."

Tiger Cub scowled. "Shut up."

“Whatever you say,” I said, shrugging. “But if you want to be on time for this not-date, you shouldn’t be hanging around the office on Halloween night.”

Tiger Cub dropped her eyes, looking guilty. “I...I’ve got the evening off,” she admitted. “I should have chosen a different night. Only I told her we’d do something for her birthday and Gesar’s sending her to Novosibirsk tomorrow -”

“You’ve worked every Halloween night for the last ten years,” I pointed out. “And you’ve spent the last month chasing that unlicensed healer. You’ve earned one night off. Now get out of here or they’ll send you out on shift, time off or no.”

Tiger Cub hesitated, glancing at the forms. “But the incident report -”

“I’ll finish it. Just sign the last page and I’ll fill in the rest.”

She wavered a moment longer, and I cast a pointed look at the clock. Finally, making up her mind, she grabbed the pen and scribbled her signature at the bottom. 

“Anton, thank you,” she said sincerely. “Really, I owe you one -”

“No time for speeches,” I interrupted, waving her off. “We can manage without you for one night. Now, get lost."

“ _Thank you!”_ she said again, and hurried from the room. 

Well, at least someone would have a pleasant evening tonight. This job could quite easily eat up your personal life if you let it, and there was no reason for Tiger Cub to end up like Svetlana and me - 

But I wasn’t going to think about Svetlana now.

I got to work on the incident form, and it soon became clear that it was in desperate need of an update. It wasn’t so bad that there were spaces for my astrological sign and Name Day, even though I had to look up the latter in a calendar of the saints. That sort of thing could come in useful for our clairvoyants and analysts. But all the dates had to be entered according to the pre-Revolutionary calendar, and there was a space to enter the name of the local _starshina,_ a position that had ceased to exist nearly a century ago. And for some reason, parts of it were written in French. 

By the time I reached the section called _Description des évènements,_ I was fed up with the whole business. I wrote down a brief account of my attempts to protect the girl, which seemed even more idiotic written out, and finished by adding that I didn’t know who she was or where she’d gone. I hadn’t even recorded her aura. 

Next I had to enter a Liste of Magicks Employed. That was more complicated, because I didn’t know exactly what I’d cast. I tried to remember what I was thinking at the time. I wanted to follow her and keep an eye on her, but I couldn’t - so maybe something like Guardian? And something else to protect her from people going after her...it could have been Cloak, or something similar. I wrote down the best explanation I could come up with, and slumped back in my seat, exhausted. Compared to the horrors of bureaucracy, hunting vampires didn’t seem so bad after all. 

By that time it was a quarter to seven and the night shift was about to start. I dropped off the forms at the main desk and hurried to the briefing room where Ilya was assigning the patrols. All the extra staff were in there, and the room was packed. 

“Anton!” Ilya said when he saw me. “Our clairvoyants are predicting a werewolf fight at half past eight near Patriarch’s Ponds. I’m putting you, Alisher and Lena on it.”

I caught Alisher's eye and the young man looked back at me nervously. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he only looked more alarmed.

**

The night went more or less the way I’d expected - that is to say, terrible. 

We took one of the office jeeps to Patriarch’s Ponds, which Bulgakov had immortalized as the setting of Master and Margarita. We stopped not far away from the apartment where Bulgakov himself had lived. Years later, the building would be home to the Bulgakov Museum and the Bulgakov House, each of which would claim to be the first and only Bulgakov Memorial in Moscow and completely ignore the existence of the other.

We sat in the jeep for nearly an hour, and then got a call to say that the clairvoyants had gotten mixed up, and we were actually supposed to be at Chistye Prudy.

The fight was already underway when we arrived, with ten werewolves already at each others' throats. We managed to break it up with minimal damage to them or us. After we'd arrested them and locked them up in magical handcuffs - or rather, paw-cuffs - I called the office to send a van to arrest them. 

After that, there was a pair of young vampires who'd lost control and gone on a rampage in the Propaganda nightclub, and then a coven of witches attempting human sacrifice near Moscow University, and after that it all sort of blurred together. 

By about one in the morning, poor Alisher was looking just about ready to turn in his resignation, and I felt a pang of sympathy.

"Don't worry," I said, clapping him on the back. "The first one is always the worst."

He looked up hopefully. "Really?"

"Sure,” I said, and hesitated. “Well...the second isn’t great either, because you know what you’re in for, and the third’s pretty rough, too…”

Alisher groaned and Lena shot me a glare. 

"Don't listen to Anton, he's just a kid," she said. "After a few years, it’s just routine.”

“How many is a few?” 

Lena, who could remember the Emancipation of the Serfs of 1861, thought for a moment and shrugged. “Not many,” she said. “Thirty or forty at most.”

**

The night seemed to last about five years. By about half-past-seven the next morning, the patrols started trickling back into the office, exhausted and covered in blood. Our own little group had managed to get through more or less unscathed, but others hadn't been so lucky - the infirmary was full, and there were people lining up outside it.

I dragged myself to the locker room and had a shower to get the blood off before changing into clean clothes. When I came out, most of the field staff had gathered in the entrance, about to go off to the bars. I saw Alisher with them and thought about going along, but I remembered what happened the last time I went out drinking and decided against it. 

I emerged from the Metro station and started towards my apartment. I was dead tired but still too wound up to sleep, and scenes from that night kept playing in my mind in an endless loop.

Blood staining the tiles of the nightclub. 

I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. I took a roundabout route, trying to shake off the images from the previous night. The young nightclubbers in their absurd costumes, lying drained of blood. The man that two werewolves had used to play tug-of-war. And the Black Vortex that had gone off in a video store, killing three people and injuring more…

No. We had saved the ones we could. Dwelling on the rest wouldn’t help anyone. 

The morning commuters streamed past me, caught up in their private concerns. Warehouse workers, teachers, dentists, accountants. I could remember what it was like to be one of them, but now they just looked like potential corpses to me. Fight the Dark, keep them alive, all so they could torment and kill each other and die of cancer or liver cirrhosis in a few years’ time. 

I was tired, so tired of all of it. 

I came to the little grocery across the street from my building and felt a strange urge to go in. I didn’t need any food - I couldn't eat it while I was taking the serum. But it seemed like such an ordinary thing to do, and at that moment, I very badly wanted to be ordinary. 

Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I went in and bought eggs, milk and bread, before crossing the street and going into my own building. 

My place was on the seventh floor, but I took the elevator up to the eighth, one below the top floor. I stepped out onto the landing, and immediately heard a baby crying from behind the nearest apartment door. 

I put down the food in front of the door and knocked gently before stepping into the Twilight.

The door opened and a young woman stuck her head out, murmuring to the baby screaming in her arms. She was small and thin, maybe nineteen or twenty, with eyes that were far too old. 

Her name was Maria, and she was the granddaughter of the old lady I’d chatted with last week, the one who could see the Angel of Death. The old woman was hovering in the background. But there were no angels to be seen, Dark or otherwise.

When the girl saw the food, she went very still. It wasn’t the first time I’d done it, but she still glanced around, her eyes passing right over me. It might have been my imagination, but something about her seemed different. She looked more hopeful, somehow, and less careworn than usual. And she appeared to have dressed up a bit, as if she were expecting company. Good for her. 

I turned away and started down the stairs. I knew very well that some eggs and milk wouldn’t cure her father’s alcoholism or fix her grandmother’s memory. Those little gestures didn’t serve any purpose beyond making me feel better, but I kept doing it. Sentimentality, that’s what it was.

By that point, the adrenaline had worn off and I could barely stay on my feet. I dragged myself into my apartment and went right to bed.

I was asleep almost immediately, and slid into strange dreams. Perhaps because I’d seen the old woman, I dreamed that I was the Angel of Death, soaring over Moscow on leathery wings. Someone would die tonight. The city was spread out beneath me, electric lights blazing in the night, pulsing with activity. I spiralled lower and lower and the skeleton of a half-completed building loomed in the darkness… 

And then I was myself again. I was running down some unfamiliar street, chasing a vampire. Or perhaps the vampire was chasing me, I couldn’t be sure. A high, silvery laughter echoed in the night, and I recognized it. Dobrinina, the first vampire I’d ever hunted. 

_Anton, come and get me._

The sound of the Call drew me through the wintry streets, and I turned into a familiar alley. The vampire was there, and she had a victim. The young girl from upstairs, twisting and struggling. 

_Night Watch!_ I shouted, but no sound came out. I cast the Grey Prayer, the spell against non-life, but it fizzled in midair and died. The vampire laughed and looked up, and I found myself looking into my own face. 

My other self looked into my eyes and began to laugh. And then I looked down and saw that I was the one holding the girl. She stared up at me in terror.

The Thirst burned my throat. I leaned down towards her and she opened her eyes and _screamed_.

I sat bolt upright in bed. I was drenched in sweat and gasping for air and I could still hear the young girl screaming - 

She was still screaming. 

I could still hear it.

I jumped out of bed and dashed toward the door, throwing it open with a spell. It crashed against the wall, nearly tearing off its hinges. Still running, I called up the Grey Prayer. There was a dark, hunched shape just outside the door. I raised my hand and cast.

The force of the spell knocked me on my back and I lay there, stunned, for a few seconds. I was vaguely aware that someone was crying. Then I heard footsteps pounding on the stairs and someone yelling my name. 

“Anton! What the hell happened?”

I sat up, blinking, and shook my head to clear it. Kostya was standing in the doorway and staring at me, wild-eyed.

“Come on, say something!” he shouted. “Why did you do that?”

“Get...get out of the way! The vampire - in the doorway -” I struggled to my feet and nearly toppled over again. “The vampire - behind you -”

 _“What?”_ Kostya twisted around. “Anton, she’s just a normal girl!”

I stumbled forward, trying to call up another spell. “She - she bit her, the girl upstairs, she’s going to die -”

“Anton, _stop!”_ Still standing in the doorway, Kostya grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “You’re not making any sense. Who’s going to die?”

I didn’t answer. Peering over Kostya’s shoulder, I saw a slight young woman huddled in the corner. Her face was red and blotchy with tears, and she seemed to be cradling one arm. And sure enough, she had a regular, human aura.

Oh, hell…

I glanced up and down the stairwell, but there was no sign of a vampire. A door opened one floor up, and Maria and her grandmother peered out. I pushed past Kostya and stepped out onto the landing. 

“Miss, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

She cast a timid glance at me and dropped her eyes.“N-no... I slipped and landed wrong. I’m fine now. I should go.” She started to get to her feet, leaning against the wall.

“But-you’re hurt,” I protested. “I can help, I’ve got ice in my apartment -”

“N-no, thank you,” she squeaked, not looking at me. “I...I’ll get some at my friend’s place. She’s expecting me, and I’m already late, I’ve got to go -” 

She turned and rushed off down the stairs, holding her arm close to her body. I peered after her, watching her hurried descent.

“Odd,” I said, frowning. “What’s she so frightened of, if no one hurt her?”

Kostya snickered. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the half-naked shouting lunatic who almost flattened her with a door.”

“...What?”

I glanced down and realized that I was wearing nothing but the shorts that I’d gone to sleep in. 

“Shit!”

I ducked back into my own apartment, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me. My face felt like it was on fire. What a disaster. At least there weren’t too many people around, except for...

Hesitantly, I stuck my head out and looked towards the next floor. The young girl had gone back into the apartment, but her grandmother was still there. 

“Don’t worry, young man,” she called. “I was a nurse during the Great Patriotic War. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, and retreated into the apartment. Kostya was leaning against the wall of the stairwell and laughing his head off.

“It’s not that funny,” I snapped. “I had a bad dream and got confused. It happens.”

“Sure,” Kostya said, still laughing. “I’m telling Tiger Cub next time I see her. Talk to you later, Anton.” 

And he bounded off down the stairs. I slammed the door shut and groaned. Now that the imagined crisis had passed, I was realizing how stiff all my muscles were. I had to stay in decent shape for the job, but twelve hours straight of running around and fighting still took a toll. 

I limped back into my room and fell onto the bed. Maybe everyone was right, maybe I really was losing it. I'd just attacked a human girl thinking she was a vampire, and made an exhibition of myself in front of the neighbours. I'd be lucky if they didn't complain to the building manager. And as for Kostya...Christ, I was never going to live that one down.

**

A shrill ringing jolted me awake. 

I just lay there for a while and thought about ignoring it. Just letting it ring out and going back to sleep. It was an appealing thought, but then it occurred to me that perhaps something had happened and someone was injured or worse - 

“Gorodetsky here.”

“Hi, Anton!” said a cheerful female voice. “This is Liuda.”

I gave it some thought and failed to identify the name. “Wrong number.”

“No, it’s Lyudmila Sakharova, don’t you remember? You were so nice about my registration seal the other night…”

Ah, now I remembered. I’d found that her registration seal was a week past due for renewal, and I’d let her off with a warning as long as she went straight to get it done right then. And she had. 

“It wasn’t a favour,” I growled. “How did you get this number?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” she said sweetly. “Anyway, I wanted to do something for you in return. Komsomolskiy Prospekt, 33.” 

“What?”

“It’s an address,” she chirped. “It’s near Frunzenskaya station, you just take the Sokolnicheskaya line -”

“I didn’t ask for directions!” I snapped. “What is it? If it’s your place, the answer is -”

“It’s not _my_ address!” She giggled. “You didn’t think I was suggesting something improper, did you? It’s a tip. I suggest you check it out.”

“Why? What’s there?”

“I said I wanted to thank you, not do your job for you.” She giggled again. “See you around, Anton!”

“Wait, Lyudmila -”

But she’d already hung up, and the dial tone rang and rang in my ear. 

I thought about getting someone else to look into it. But then I imagined calling one of my colleagues the morning after Halloween and asking them to go to an unknown address for an unspecified reason, based on information provided by a vampire. And if it turned out to be something stupid like a new nail salon, which was a decent possibility, I would lose whatever credibility I had left.

But what if it wasn’t something stupid? What if it was a lead on my case, some kind of proof that I wasn’t actually losing it? In spite of the fatigue and my sore muscles, there was a small part of me that didn’t want to call anyone else. The part of me that _had to know._

I pushed back the blankets and got out of bed. 


	4. The Body

The address turned out to be a building site for an apartment complex, screened from the street by a tall, chain-link construction fence. I unlocked the gate with a spell and let myself in, and stopped to have a look around.

I’d never realized how sinister a deserted construction site could be. The half-finished skeleton of the structure loomed at the back of the lot. Closer and to my right were a couple of trailers, looking worn and weatherbeaten in the greyish light. The place looked oddly familiar, but then, one building site is more or less like another. 

The open space to my left was being used as a storage area, with concrete pipes and piles of lumber casting strange shadows. A bulldozer and a forklift were parked further back. There should have been workers all over the place at that time of the morning, but the whole place was eerily still and silent. Goosebumps prickled on my arms. 

I was still tired, but I was feeling a lot more alert, possibly because of the fresh air. There were three vehicles parked in front of the trailers: a gleaming black sports car, a dark blue jeep, and a battered green pickup truck with the words 'Avdeyev Concrete’ on the side. The sports car wasn’t the sort of thing one usually drove to a construction site, and I could sense a few Dark protection spells. Most likely, the Day Watch was already here. The pickup had spells on it too, quite nasty ones, for that matter. But the jeep had none. I moved closer and peered at the windscreen. The inside of the glass was covered over with condensation, as if it had been there for hours. Maybe all night.

I thought about checking the trailers, but I couldn’t sense anyone inside them. I kept walking towards the half-constructed building. Of course, there were no stairwells or elevators put in yet, but there was scaffolding along the front, with temporary stairs at one corner. 

As I reached the second floor, I stopped in my tracks. I could feel it now, brushing against my skin like a miasma. My skin crawled, and I again had to force myself to keep going. At least now I knew why I was here. 

There was no mistaking the magical traces left by a death. Someone had died here, not too long ago. And violently. 

I trudged up the temporary stairs, my feet growing heavier and heavier. The frame creaked and shuddered as I went up, and I tried not to look down. 

As I reached the penultimate floor, some instinct made me step into the Twilight, and I could feel my energy draining away into that cold grey world. 

When I reached the top level, I saw that I wasn’t alone. There were three of them, Dark Magicians, not even ten metres away. My pulse sped up when I realized they were in their Twilight forms. 

One looked like a normal man, but the other two had become demons. Tall and hunched, with scaly skin and sharp, curving horns. And they were pretty powerful, too - third level, and there were two of them…

The demons hadn’t seen me. I grabbed my badge and combat amulet. But before I could act, the human-looking one spun towards me and fired a curse at me. 

It was a nasty one. I saw the spell as a pale white hand with long, misshapen fingers. It made a grab for me, and I flung up a Shield just in time. It barely held. The hand clawed and battered at it, and it took all my strength just to hold it back. At last, it gave way and vanished in a puff of smoke. 

The Dark One was preparing to strike again, but I didn’t wait. I cast Stun and he flew backwards, landing in a heap. 

I approached warily, attack spells at the ready. He was powerful, all right. I’d put so much energy into the spell that he should have been out cold, but he was already struggling to get up.

“Night Watch!” I shouted. “Leave the Twilight -"

My voice died in my throat. He was covered in blood. It was everywhere - on his face, on his hands, and staining his clothes. Even his boots were soaked with it. He looked like he’d come straight from a slaughterhouse, and he was staring at me with murder in his eyes. 

I took an involuntary step back. “Didn’t you hear me? I said leave the Twilight!”

His eyes narrowed, and I braced myself for an attack. But he got slowly to his feet, watching me all the while, and stepped back into the normal world.

I followed him out and we eyed each other warily, like dogs spoiling for a fight. I was vaguely aware that the demons had come out too, and now looked like regular guys.

He was a grim-looking character with a lean, unshaven face and black hair cropped short like a convict’s. He wasn't covered in blood any longer - it seemed that it was just part of his Twilight appearance. His clothes were battered and grease-stained, and he had heavy boots that looked like they could easily kick a person’s face in.

But the worst of it was his eyes. You can tell a lot about a person by the eyes, and his were pitch black and completely impenetrable. It was like looking into a cavernous room with the lights out and God knows what lurking in the shadows -

"Hey, dickhead, when you're done staring at me, you might want to take a look at the dead body over there."

I nearly choked with rage and astonishment, and suppressed an impulse to strangle him. 

"You be careful," I told him grimly. "You just attacked an officer of the Watch. Things aren't looking good for you."

“How was I supposed to know who you were?” he demanded. “You didn’t say anything! You just snuck up in the Twilight!”

“He’s right,” piped up one of the other Dark Magicians. “You didn’t identify yourself. It was only my Day Watch training that stopped me from attacking you. You can’t expect an untrained civilian to show the same restraint -”

“You shut up,” I growled. I recognized the two of them now - they were junior Day Watch agents, Arseniev and Ilyukhin. But the third one, the blood-covered one, I’d never seen before. He was foreign, though, I could tell from his accent - maybe somewhere in the Baltics.

In all the confusion, I hadn’t even noticed the crumpled form lying behind the two agents. I pushed past them and moved closer. 

It was a guy in his fifties or early sixties, with close-cropped grey hair and a tan that suggested that he had just gotten back from someplace expensive. He was wearing an immaculately tailored suit and shiny, foreign-looking shoes. There was a small puddle of blood beside him and his throat was a mess of mangled flesh.

He had been dead long enough that his blood didn’t trigger the Thirst too much. But the smell was enough to make my mouth fill with saliva, and my stomach turned over in revulsion. I took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over my face. 

“What’s the matter?” growled a voice in my ear. “Scared of dead bodies?

I started, and my heart skipped a beat. The third Dark One had managed to creep up on me without my noticing. 

I turned, nearly bumping into him. I looked past him at the two gormless Day Watch agents, who were watching us with intense curiosity.

“I wouldn’t look so pleased if I were you,” I said grimly. “You should have reported the crime to the Night Watch. And as for _you -”_ I rounded on the third one, who was still standing too close - “who the hell are you? I presume you work for the construction company?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you presume that?”

“It’s obvious,” I snapped. “There are three vehicles down there. The jeep belonged to the dead man and the sports car belongs to those two clowns. That leaves the pickup truck for you. But it’s obviously not your own vehicle, because Avdeyev is a Russian name and you’re...Latvian, or something.”

He scowled. “Estonian.” 

Well, I wasn’t too far off. “What’s your name?”

“Marten Kalevich Vesik”

I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and wrote it down. “Do you know who this man is?”

“Vadim Korostelev,” Vesik growled. “He’s the goddamn client. Or he was.”

I looked up. “So this is his project?”

“Yeah.” Vesik jammed his hands in his pockets and spat on the ground. “Don’t know what the hell’s going to happen to it now. I already got five loads of concrete I couldn’t use, I’ve got crews on standby and I’m not going to get paid unless I take it to court -”

Unbelievable. A man was dead and he was worrying about his payment.

“Your financial problems aren’t my concern,” I said sharply. “Tell me everything that happened today, starting from when you arrived. Don’t leave anything out.”

He thought for a moment and started talking. “I showed up at five this morning, because we had a concrete pour scheduled for six. The guys weren’t here yet. Started the generator, fuelled up the dozer, went to take a shit -” At my furious look, he shrugged. “What? You said not to leave anything out.”

With a supreme effort, I managed to keep from punching him. “Don’t get smart,” I ground out. “Keep going.”

“I went in to take care of some paperwork. The guys started showing up around five-thirty so I went out, and then…” He trailed off and swallowed, seeming to lose some of his self-assurance. “And then I noticed it.”

“Noticed what?” I asked impatiently after a few moments.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he shrugged. “When someone’s died...you just know. It’s like a bad smell, like how a dead animal starts to stink after awhile, only you don’t actually smell it, you...you feel it. And it just sticks to you -”

“You mean the emanations of death,” I interrupted. “I know what those are. Get on with it.”

He went on, his voice flat and expressionless. “After that...I went to see what had happened. Told the guys to stay where they were. I came up here alone. I found Korostelev looking pretty much the way he does now. I sent the guys home and called the Day Watch and then these guys showed up. And then you.”

When he’d finished, he turned away sharply and lit a cigarette. His expression had been carefully controlled as he told the story, and he hadn’t mentioned his own reactions to finding the corpse. But his face had gone pale and despite the cold, there were beads of sweat on his forehead. What was he up to? If you wanted to take suspicion of yourself, you’d want to feign emotion rather than hide it. 

“Is that all?” I asked. “You didn’t call the militia?”

“To catch a vampire? That’s supposed to be your job!”

“You know, you never explained why you brought vampires into it,” I snapped. “There’s no reason to think this wasn’t a human crime.”

He stared at me and shook his head. “Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered. “You’ve never seen anyone get their throat cut, have you?”

“What?”

“For one thing, it bleeds like hell,” he said bluntly. “Sprays like a fucking fountain. This whole place should be covered with blood.” He gestured expansively at the clean expanse of concrete. “Do you see any blood, _Officer?_ ”

I ground my teeth and didn’t answer. Much as I hated to admit it, he was right - if the victim had died from a slit throat, there should have been blood splattered all over the place. How the hell had I missed that? Maybe I was still tired and not thinking straight.

Still, the lack of blood at the scene didn’t necessarily mean _vampires._ He could have been killed somewhere else and brought to the site afterwards. 

“And he obviously walked up here himself, but he wouldn’t do that unless -”

“Wait a minute,” I said sharply. “How do you know he walked up by himself.”

“Because of the footprints,” Vesik said, and snorted at my confused expression. “Of course. You didn’t even notice them. Look over there.”

I glanced where he was pointing and saw a faint impression in the concrete in the shape of a foot. A trail of similar marks led from the scaffolding all the way to the body. Bending down for a closer look, I saw that the marks were an exact match for the soles of the dead man’s shoes. I cursed under my breath. Once again, Vesik was right - the victim really had walked up here himself. But it wasn’t my fault I hadn’t noticed the prints. I hadn’t had a proper look around because he’d attacked me. 

“If he was the client, he must have come to check on the work from time to time,” I said. “When was the last time he was here?”

“Yesterday,” Vesik said sourly. “Showed up in his brand new workboots and jeans and tried to tell the guys what to do. Wasted everyone’s time for an hour, and around six he got into his shiny Jeep and left.”

I looked up at him. “I take it the two of you didn’t get on well.”

“Fuck, no,” Vesik spat. “The guy was an asshole. And a tightwad, too. Rich enough to buy our whole company, and he kept bitching about a pack of smokes he said I owed him.” He glanced at my face and scowled. “What?”

“Most people tend to show some respect for the deceased -”

“The deceased was a piece of shit.” Vesik glared at me as if I were personally responsible for Korostelev’s failings. “That doesn't change because he's dead. Aren't you Light Ones all about telling the truth?”

I smiled bitterly; I'd been disabused of _that_ notion a long time ago. Getting to my feet, I dusted off my jeans. “You’re not making things easy on yourself, you know.”

“What?” 

“Most people don’t announce that they had a poor relationship with the victim,” I said. “That kind of thing looks suspicious.”

“So you’re saying _I_ did it? Are you insane?”

“We don’t make false accusations,” I snapped. “We need to consider all possibilities. You were the first to see the body and one of the last to see him alive, and you admitted yourself that you didn’t get on with him -”

“Why the fuck would I kill my own client?” he demanded. “Do you know how much this bullshit is costing us? And if I did it, why would I call the Day Watch?”

“Don't you watch any criminal shows?,” I smiled humourlessly. “It's a common tactic. Report your own crime to divert suspicion, and then come up with another theory to throw people off the scent. And as for why you’d do it…” I shrugged. “Could have been a gang thing. The mob more or less runs the construction industry.” 

“Like you’d know anything about it,” he snorted. “And look what he’s wearing. Why would he go home, change out of his work clothes and come back after hours in a fancy suit? He wouldn’t. He was planning on going out on the town, but a vampire Called him here. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Damn it. The most aggravating part of it was that he was actually making sense, pointing out things that I should have picked up on. But that was no reason to take his word for it. As I'd pointed out, he could be trying to divert suspicion.

But on the other hand, I couldn’t just assume he had done it just because he was unpleasant. 

Perhaps I’d missed something on the body. I really hadn’t looked too hard the first time, because I’d been convinced it was done by humans. But a vampire’s fang leaves a very distinctive mark. Maybe I could find something. 

I got up and reluctantly moved towards the crumpled shape on the ground, when the world lurched and a rush of images flashed through my mind.

_It is night. The night air is cool on my wings and the city is glittering with electric lights. I can see the building site far below me and I circle lower and lower..._

Almost at once, it was over. Light and Dark...what the hell was that? Was I getting hallucinations from the pig’s blood? I shook my head to clear it and saw Vesik watching me with a frown on his face. I wasn’t about to give him a reason to say I wasn’t in my right mind

I moved closer and bent down to look at his neck again, examining the skin for tooth marks. The smell of the blood made my teeth itch -

The images came again, fast and dizzying. _I land on the top of the building. The ground yields under me and my claws sink into soft sludge. I rip myself loose…._

Light and Dark, what was happening to me? I rubbed at my face and reached for the man’s hand, looking for signs of discolouration. His arm was already stiffening but it could still move. The smell of the blood was still there, faint but present -

_Standing on two feet now, it’s time to call the prey. I open my mouth and begin to sing, the music filling the night. Before long, I can hear him, stamping up the scaffolding. I feel a surge of disgust._

_Bastard._

_He keeps going, moving like a sleepwalker. He is mine. Mine!_

And then it was over. 

I was myself again, on my knees next to the body, breathing shakily. _What the hell was that?_

Taking deep breaths, I tried to make sense of what I’d seen. It wasn’t a hallucination - or at least, not _just_ a hallucination. I’d seen the murder scene, and heard the victim coming up the stairs, which meant that - 

_It was a bat._

“What did you say?”

I glanced up to see Vesik watching me, and kicked myself. Had I really spoken out loud? 

“Nothing,” I said at once. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“No, I heard you,” he said slowly. “You think the killer flew in as a bat, right? What makes you say that?”

Damn, there was no getting out of it now. Why did this idiot have such good hearing?

“Because of the footprints,” I lied, just to get him off my case. “There’s only one set. So the killer got in here without leaving prints. I suppose he _could_ have flown in as a pelican. But vampires find it much easier to turn into a bat than anything else, so that's what they usually do."

Vesik looked at me as if I were a dog that had gotten up on its hind legs and started singing the National Anthem.

“Yeah, I figure that’s what happened,” he said after a moment. “Look over here, you can see where he landed. And then he transformed.”

He pointed at an area right beside the body, where the concrete was marked with scratches. I could see a collection of lines that must have been left by the claws, and fainter marks left by the wings. And next to it, I could just make out part of the impression left by a shoe. 

“How did you notice that?” I said, surprised. “You can hardly see it.”

He shot me a suspicious look, as if he suspected that I was making fun of him. “I pour concrete for a living. You have to pay attention to shit like that or you’ll have building inspectors up your ass all the time.”

“Or maybe you were here when the marks were made. So you knew exactly where to look.”

"This shit again," he muttered. "I'm not even going to answer that."

I got to my feet, wondering how much of his theory to believe. The marks certainly seemed to have been left by a bat, and there was no way Vesik could turn into one. I could tell from his aura that he wasn't a shape shifter. It was possible that he had hired a vampire to do it, but what would be the motive? It was like he said - he had nothing to gain from killing his own client. And if he were responsible, why would he call the Day Watch? I didn't believe he had the finesse to report his own crime to divert suspicion.

The back of my neck prickled and I turned to see him watching me with that unsettling black stare of his. I suppressed a shiver. His aura was a dense, shadowy mass that spiralled around him like ink in water. Whether or not he was guilty, there was something... _abnormal_ about him.

“All right,” I said, turning away from the body. “I’ve seen everything I need here. Let’s go.”

It seemed that Vesik had grown tired of insulting me, and I was fed up with talking to him. Only the two Day Watch agents were in good spirits, chatting between themselves. 

Vesik and I trudged halfway down the scaffolding in silence, when he let loose a string of curses. 

“Now what?” I snapped. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Really? You didn't call _him?"_

I followed his gaze and swore under my breath. A man was waiting for us at the bottom. He was tall and slim, with a mournful intellectual’s face and a sober black suit. I felt a flare of anger and had to restrain myself from kicking something. 

“That's Zavulon," I spat. “The head of the Day Watch. Of course I didn't call him."

“Day Watch, Night Watch, same thing,” Vesik snorted.

The disgust was plain on his face. It didn’t make sense. Most Dark Ones regarded Zabulon with a healthy level of fear, but I’d never seen open dislike before. 

I marched the rest of the way down the scaffolding and stopped in front of him, glaring. 

I gritted my teeth and reached for the medallion in my pocket. “Zabulon, you no longer have power over me. Now what do you want?”

He smiled. “Can’t I pay a visit to my favourite Light One?”

He was needling me, but I clenched my fists and refused to rise to the bait. Zabulon just looked amused.

“Very well,” he sighed, examining his fingernails. “We’ll skip the pleasantries. To be quite honest, I am quite concerned about how the Night Watch has managed this investigation to date.”

“What investigation?” I snapped. “We weren't even notified, I found out on my own -"

"And you were fucking useless!" Vesik retorted. "You had no idea what was going on, I had to tell you everything -"

Zabulon extended his hands in a placating gesture. “Now, now. I believe we can settle this matter to everyone’s satisfaction. Marten, I’m assigning you to help Anton work the case.”

 _“What?”_ Vesik and I spoke simultaneously and then turned to glare at each other. 

“No way! I’m not doing this idiot’s work for him.”

“I can’t possibly work with him,” I snapped. “For one, he’s not a real agent. He was alone when he found the body. Who’s to say he didn’t do it himself?”

"You're out of your mind!" he shouted. "A vampire drank his blood! Do I look like a vampire to you?"

Zabulon looked at us as if we were misbehaving pupils. “Gentlemen, control yourselves,” he said sternly. “Anton...to be quite frank, I think you need the help. And as for you, Marten, you can ensure that the investigation is carried out to your satisfaction -”

I was silent for a few seconds, trying to get my anger under control. 

"Absolutely not," I said.

"Okay, fine," Vesik muttered at the same time.

I turned to stare at him, unable to believe my ears. Zabulon raised his eyebrows a fraction. 

"Well, at least one of you is willing to be reasonable," he sighed. "Anton, I hope you change your mind -"

"I won't. And you know quite well he's got some ulterior motive for wanting to help -"

"Yeah, I want to know who killed my fucking client!"

"If you're so clever, what do you need me for? Why not investigate by yourself?"

"Maybe I will," he shot back. "I'll let you know when I solve the case."

Before I could answer, he turned on his heel and stormed off. Zabulon watched him go with a faint look of distaste. 

“Marten Vesik,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Oh, how I detest that man.” 

" _You_ don't like him?" I asked, startled. "Why?"

"He's a disgrace to our kind," Zabulon drawled. "Sets my teeth on edge. But it's hard to find an honest contractor in Moscow, so I had to hire him to do the plumbing for my dungeon."

I swallowed. "A dungeon? At the Day Watch?"

"No, no, at my dacha. For personal use." Zavulon grinned wolfishly at me. "Don't look so shocked, Antoshka. I mostly only use it for sex."

Before I could digest that bit of information, Zabulon vanished into thin air. I decided to put the matter out of my mind.

Glancing towards the street, I saw that Vesik hadn't left yet. He was standing in front of the dead man's jeep, just looking at it, and I saw him place something on the windshield. Then he got into his truck and drove off. 

I walked over to the jeep and saw what he'd left there. It was a pack of cigarettes.


	5. Worse than Attila the Hun

I went to the office instead of going straight home. I knew it was a bad idea. I should have been catching up on sleep before going out on shift. But this was urgent. I had to find out what I was up against. Or rather, who.

Marten Vesik was an enigma. I had no idea why he had decided to get involved in the case or what he was hoping to get out of it. His aura was so murky and distorted that I could barely read anything from it. I couldn't even tell what grade he was, but from the curse he'd cast and the way he'd shaken off my stunning spell, no one could call him weak.

I went straight to Gesar's office, intending to tell him everything that had happened and demand that he take Vesik off the case. His door was shut, even though I could hear him talking inside. I spotted Olga walking by, and she told me that he would be busy indefinitely. Of course.

I had a feeling that Gesar knew all about Vesik, and perhaps had reasons of his own for allowing him to work on the case. Vesik himself was sinister enough, but I suspected that the Great Ones were playing games that even he knew nothing about. He was a pawn, just like me, only painted a different colour.

No. Not just like me. I made plenty of mistakes, and the Watch wasn't anywhere near perfect. But at least we were _trying_ to help people. The Dark Ones were only out for themselves.

As I made my way through the office, I sensed that my colleagues wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. I could feel their gazes resting briefly on my face and sliding away. Odd. They had been doing that for the past week, ever since I started drinking the serum.

I went to the intelligence centre and nodded to Irina and Oleg, who were on duty. They glanced at each other and smiled at me, but it seemed a bit forced. 

"Hi, Anton -" Irina began, but I didn't have time for pleasantries.

“I need the file on Marten Vesik,” I said. “A Dark One, not part of the Watch. It's urgent.” Neither of them said anything. For some reason, they looked a bit taken aback.

“Right,” Irina said after a moment. “I’ll get that for you.” 

She disappeared into the archive, and I turned to Oleg. 

“I also need information about a business, Avdeyev Construction. Try to find out if they were involved in any shady business. You can call their office and ask a few questions. And see if you can track down the employees working at 33 Komsomolskiy. I need to know if any have a connection to the Dark Ones."

"Yes, Captain," Oleg muttered.

I raised my eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Anton, what’s so important about this construction company? What happened to your vampire hunt?”

“Still ongoing,” I said tersely. “A body was found drained of blood at a site where Avdeyev Construction was working. Could be a coincidence, but I can’t be sure. Now, are you going to get me that information or not?”

“A body?" Oleg echoed. "You mean....you’ve actually found something?”

“You seem awfully surprised.”

“N-no!” he stammered. “I mean...congratulations!”

Shaking my head, I turned away. It was no surprise that my coworkers all thought I was losing it, but that didn’t mean it was fun. 

I went into the work area, which was fortunately empty. I shut the door and started the coffee machine. The thing was just about old enough to enlist in the army, and its grumblings seemed loud in the quiet room.

Irina brought me the file a few moments later, and I sat down to look it over. It wasn’t exactly pleasant reading.

Marten Vesik had been initiated to the Dark in the spring of 1992 and had started applying for killing licenses less than a year later. He’d requested and received five licenses within six months, which was almost unheard of. Around the same time, he partnered with an old coworker to start a small construction business. It wasn’t hugely successful but it managed to stay afloat, which was rare in the early nineties. 

My coffee grew cold beside me. The sun crept higher in the sky, flooding the room with light. I kept reading. There were profiles on his victims, nasty characters, many of whom had criminal ties. Two of them owned construction businesses, two were crooked City officials, and one was a major figure in the mob at the time. 

I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes. So they weren't exactly models of virtue. Some people might say that Vesik had been doing the world a favour. But it’s not up to Others to eliminate the bad in humanity...the people must do that for themselves…

Besides, Vesik hadn’t just killed them. From the photos, I could see that the killings had been carried out in a gruesome, ritualistic fashion, by someone who took real pleasure in it. Each victim's heart had been ripped out, leaving an empty, gaping cavity. There was also a description of the spell he'd used. It was some kind of foreign invention that took the form of a grasping white hand.

With a chill, I thought back to our fight that morning. He’d used that spell against me, and I’d been just millimetres away from dying a brutal death.

Shuddering, I put aside the photos. The next document in the file seemed to be about his personal life. Apparently he was divorced, which was hardly surprising. The real question was how he managed to get someone to marry him -

“What do you think you’re doing, Gorodetsky?”

I jumped, dropping the papers, and saw the boss watching me from the doorway. I shoved them back into the folder, and then reminded myself I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“I’m researching my new colleague,” I said grimly. “This Vesik guy you’re expecting me to work with -”

“Precisely,” Gesar interjected. “I expect you to _work_. Not waste your time prying into his personal affairs -”

“Boss, he shouldn’t be working on this case! He’s a suspect!”

Gesar sighed. “Gorodetsky, I understand that your pride has been slighted, but you cannot simply -”

“It’s not about my pride!” I insisted. “This guy got ahead by killing everyone who got in his way. And now his client _happens_ to turn up dead, and he _happens_ to be the one to find the body -"

Gesar flinched and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Don’t be so self-righteous, Gorodetsky.” There was something odd about his voice. “His prior killings were completely legal. That’s no reason to suspect him of breaking the law now.”

I looked at him carefully. Something very strange was going on here. Seven years ago he had personally approved five killing licenses for Marten Vesik, a nearly unheard-of allowance. And now, my research into Vesik’s past was making him very uneasy. And if it was bad enough to make the boss nervous, it was something very bad indeed.

A year ago, I would have gotten angry and demanded answers. But now I didn’t bother. I knew he wouldn’t give them to me.

“Remember, the case is the most important thing,” he said wearily. “If you get distracted with conspiracy theories - “

“They’re not just theories,” I shot back. “I haven’t forgotten how you set me up to fall in love with Svetlana, or that business with the Maverick -”

“Do you think I’ve forgotten?” Gesar took a step forward and swayed a little. “In my time, I’ve done things that would give you nightmares to hear about. .But I did them, because someone had to. Because the alternative would have been worse. And I remember them all, Gorodetsky. _Every single one.”_ He stared me down until I dropped my eyes. “No one’s forcing you to stay in the Watch. If you’re angry with me, leave! But if not, I expect you to work. Understood?”

I glanced up at him and didn’t answer. He looked much the same as usual, but I could see the signs of strain. His eyes were slightly reddened, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, and he seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. I had never seen the boss touch a drop of alcohol in the office, but now it was clear that he had been drinking. And not just a glass or two either. Something had rattled him today, and I was almost certain that somehow Marten Vesik was wrapped up in it.

“You’re not being fair,” I muttered. “There’s something wrong with him, even Zabulon thinks so. Can you imagine how twisted a person has to be to make _Zabulon_ uncomfortable?”

Gesar gave me a look of wearied exasperation. "Zabulon’s tolerance for evil is...unfathomably high," he said. "He has met Jack the Ripper, Lavrentia Beria, and Attila the Hun. He is even...‘pen pals’ with several American serial killers -”

“There, you see? This guy is worse than Attila the Hun!”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Gesar growled. “Zabulon’s good opinion is hardly a compliment. I suggest you spend some time thinking about the kind of person he is, and the type of character he would find off-putting.”

I stared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gesar sighed. “I think you know exactly what it means. And if you want to take an old man’s advice, you’d do well to leave Marten Vesik alone.”

He turned and walked away slowly and I watched him through the Twilight. The boss is so powerful that I usually can’t get much from his aura. But his guard was down, and I noticed a sickly greenish hue hovering at the edges. I’d seen it before, but never on him. 

Shaking my head, I turned back to the file. As I paged through it, a photo slipped out of the pile and fluttered to the floor, landing face-down. I reached down and picked it up, expecting more blood and gore. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. 

A shaggy-haired young man was standing on the platform at Kazan station. He was holding a battered Soviet-made suitcase and had obviously just gotten off a train. His hair was falling into his eyes and he was smiling at the camera, bright enough to light up his whole face. I stared, wondering where he was coming back from, and who he was so happy to see. And then I thought about the grim character I’d met that morning and tried to imagine him smiling like that. Because the guy in the photo, unbelievable as it seemed, was Marten Vesik. 

After a moment, I snapped out of it and shoved the photo back into the file. I told myself to stop being an idiot. Even the worst killers had moments of humanity. And the photos of his victims said far more about his character than some ancient snapshot ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments, suggestions and constructive criticism are always welcome!


	6. Don't Blame Me if Something Eats You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vesik continues to be unbearable.

I felt a bit deflated after the boss left, so I didn’t bother reading the rest of Vesik’s file. I already knew the important things. Besides, why waste my time? Gesar almost certainly knew everything in there and he didn't care enough to do anything. 

I got home a little after three in the afternoon. To my irritation, I couldn’t seem to fall asleep. I kept seeing the dead man's mangled throat and Vesik's scowling face, neither of which was conducive to peaceful slumber.

And then there were those strange images I had seen as I looked at the body, in which I'd seen myself flying down into the construction site. What was that about? The view had seemed oddly familiar…

Because I'd dreamed about it, that was the reason. That same day, I'd dreamed it was flying. I’d thought I was the Angel of Death in the dream, assuming that my elderly neighbour’s superstitions were rubbing off on me. But maybe that wasn’t it....maybe I’d been seeing visions of the crime.

But why was I having visions? Ordinary Others didn't get that sort of thing, and I was no clairvoyant.

Things weren’t getting any clearer, so I went into the sitting room and put a cassette into the VCR. I don't know why, but I always think better if there's something playing in the background. That day it was _The Maltese Falcon._ I started the tape, poured myself a very small glass of whisky and sat down on the sofa with it. I don't even like whisky all that much, it just seems like the kind of thing a hard-boiled detective would drink. I took a sip, grimaced, and tried to pretend I was Sam Spade. 

All right, let's think things through logically. The odds were low that I'd spontaneously developed clairvoyant abilities - that hardly ever happened. It was possible that my dreams were just coincidence, and not prophetic visions at all. But then, there was the pig's blood that I'd been drinking for days now. It was supposed to allow me to hear the vampire's Call but what if that wasn't all it did? What if it was letting me see the killer's actions?

At some point I must have fallen asleep, I’m not sure when. But it felt like no time at all until I was awakened by someone hammering on the door. 

I jumped to my feet and grabbed the amulet in my pocket. I was already wide awake. The banging continued, with a distinctly threatening ring.

I crept towards the door, my heart racing. Who would bother knocking on the door? Anyone powerful enough to be a threat could get in without being invited. And anyone not powerful enough wouldn't announce themselves. Unless it was the building manager? Had I remembered to pay my rent?

The pounding grew louder, followed by a resounding _thud_ that sounded like a kick. I was just getting ready to blast it open, when a voice called out:

“Gorodetsky, I know you’re in there! Open the goddamn door!”

I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing. I could recognize the voice, but...what was he doing there?

“Vesik?” I called. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s Boris Fucking Yeltsin! Let me in!”

And he banged on the door so hard it rattled on its hinges. By then, I wasn’t nervous anymore. I was furious. Throwing caution to the wind, I called up a Triple Blade, strode over to the door and flung it open. Vesik jumped back.

“All right, you bastard,” I snarled. “You want a fight? Go ahead!"“

"I-I’m not here to fight, you psycho. I’m here for the job.”

“Job? What job?”

“The one we’re supposed to be working on! The vampire who killed my client!” He stared at me and then frowned, craning his neck to peer over my shoulder. “Whose voice is that? Are you watching TV?”

"No, actually, I was sleeping -"

“It’s the middle of the afternoon!” he shouted. “Why the fuck were you sleeping? Are you drunk?”

“I'm not drunk!” I stepped forward and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re on dangerous ground, Dark One. You’d better stop shouting and tell me what you’re doing here. Right now.”

Vesik didn’t answer. His eyes were even more unsettling up close, so dark that it seemed no light could escape. He was so close that I could hear him breathing. I wanted to turn away, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. 

“Is that why Korostelev is dead?” he asked, very quietly. “Because you were taking fucking a nap?” 

"Shut up," I snarled. "You have no idea -"

“There were more of them."

A hard lump settled in my stomach. “What?”

“Korostelev wasn't the only one. There were other killings. I guess you slept through those, too.”

My heart was pounding in my throat but I managed to keep my voice steady. “Listen, Dark One, unless you have proof -”

“I’ve got proof, but I’m not showing you in the goddamn hallway. You planning to let me in or what?"

I hesitated. If he really did have evidence, I had to see it...but what if this was a trick? Was it safe to let down the wards?

"Swear it," I said. "Swear on the Dark that you're only here for the case, you have no malicious intentions-"

"We don't have time for this shit," he snapped, and shoved past me into the apartment, and shook me off when I grabbed his sleeve.

Wincing, I waited for him to go up in smoke or dissolve into ectoplasm, but he just shot me a glare and started taking off his boots. I stared at him. The protections on my apartment would make short work of anyone with ill intentions of any kind. So if Vesik had gotten in, it meant that he'd been helped by someone far more powerful than I was…or that he really didn't want to hurt me.

No, it was the first one. Definitely the first one.

He pushed past me into the living area and dropped his bag onto the table as if he owned the place. I gawked at him, wondering if this was some strange sort of nightmare.

"Hey!" I snapped. “Are you planning to tell me what’s going on?”

Vesik didn't answer. He was busy rummaging through his bag. Then he pulled out a manila folder and shoved it at me. 

"Here," he growled. "Read. Take a good look at the dates."

I suddenly felt cold, and not just because of my lousy heating. I took the folder, already suspecting what I would find. They were police files for murders, three of them. I looked through them, one by one, examining the photos carefully, and felt goosebumps rise on my arms. 

There were three men, all with their throats slit. One was mangled like the body I’d found that morning, but the other two just had one deep cut. All the photos showed very little blood around the bodies. One was from six weeks previously, the next was from a month ago, and the last one had been found about a week ago, on October 25th. 

Looking at the pictures, I felt a strange shock of recognition mingled with disgust. As if I knew the men and hated them with a passion. But I had never seen them before…

I glanced up to find Vesik watching me in silence. Our eyes met and I looked away at once.

“How did you find these?” 

"Wasn't rocket science.” He leaned against the wall, took out a pack of cigarettes, and lit up without even bothering to ask if he could smoke. “The Day Watch can get into the police records. So I told them to look for unsolved cases in the last couple of months where the victim’s throat was cut."

"What, and you just looked through all of them one by one?"

He exhaled a stream of smoke and gave me a look of distaste. "In case you didn't notice, dickhead, cutting someone's throat is a fucking stupid way to kill them. It’s slow, it’s noisy, and you get blood everywhere. There weren't a whole lot. I figured the vampire was draining the victims, so I picked the ones that didn't have much blood around."

"And it was only these?"

"For now." He shrugged and gave me a pitiless look. "They've got a guy still looking, though. I bet there'll be more."

"What are you looking at me like that for?" I demanded. "I can't supervise every bloodsucker in Moscow. People are going to die. It's inevitable."

I saw a flash of rage in his eyes. "You've been drinking that shit for eight days. That means you were drinking it on the twenty-fifth when that guy was killed. And you were drinking it last night. Supervising the bloodsuckers is your _job_ and you can't even -"

"You shut up!" I felt like breaking something but there was nothing close by. "There was nothing I could do. You think everything else stops because I've got a case?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Last night was Halloween, and I spent twelve hours trying to keep your Dark cronies from causing a bloodbath. So forgive me if I didn't hear one single vampire's Call. And on the twenty-fifth -" I shuddered, remembering the still form of Alexei Mikhailov "- Last time these two vampires had a license for some young guy and I had to talk them out of killing him -"

"I don't give a shit! You were out playing hero while this bloodsucker killed my goddamn client!"

"That's not true!" I protested at once, but I didn't sound very convincing. Had I done the right thing, going after Volkov? They had the right to kill the boy, after all. Sure, it was sad - but because of the time I'd lost, someone else was dead. All because I'd wanted to feel like I was being useful. 

And as for last night - all right, so I'd been ordered to go on patrol instead of tracking the vampire. But I hadn't exactly fought it hard, or even thought about disobeying orders. Even though I'd gone against my orders before, when I thought it was important enough. 

Maybe Vesik was right. Maybe I did want to be the hero, fighting bravely in the streets instead of wandering around listening for a Call that might not come…

"Hey!" Vesik barked, waving a hand in my face. "What's wrong with you? Say something!"

"Stop it." I knocked his hand away. "What do you want me to say? You're...you're not wrong. If I hadn't been distracted, maybe I'd have heard the Call."

"It was twice!" he said angrily. "You had two chances to catch this piece of shit and you missed them both!"

I gritted my teeth. I wanted to fight back, defend myself, but I didn't have the energy. And I didn't know what I could say. 

"Yeah," I said wearily. "You're right. I fucked up."

Vesik looked at me for a moment. "Is that all?"

I thought about it. "Sorry," I said. "Your client is dead because of me, and -"

"You Light Ones and your fucking apologies!” He turned away in disgust. “You think I came here to watch you sit and look pathetic?"

I couldn't contain myself any longer. "Then what do you want?" I shouted. "Why are you even here? You got more results in an afternoon than I did in a week, so why are you telling me? Just go find the killer yourself!"

Vesik stared at me, apparently at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, frowned and closed it again, and then shifted his gaze to stare at the wall behind me. 

I waited with mounting impatience. "Well?" I said irritably. "I assume you're not here because you enjoy my company."

Vesik was silent for so long that I thought he wasn't going to answer. The only sound was the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall.

"I don't do this kind of shit," he muttered at last.

I raised my eyebrows and leaned against the table. It creaked ominously. "What kind of shit? Murder?"

"No. All this...detective crap." He scowled, gesturing at the files. "That's not what I do. I just pour concrete."

I thought I had an idea where he was going with this, but I couldn't quite make myself believe it. "You seem to be doing all right so far."

"I guess," he muttered. "But I've never tracked a vampire before."

"So you're…" It seemed almost too absurd to say. "You're asking me for help?"

His scowl became almost murderous. "I figured you might have some idea what you're supposed to do," he growled. "Even if you can't actually do it. And you're drinking that stuff, so you can hear the Call and get those freaky vision things."

I started. "V-visions? What visions?"

"When you were looking at the body. It's how you knew the killer flew in as a bat." He snorted. "You're not smart enough to figure that out on your own. And you looked so freaked out, I could tell it wasn't normal for you. I didn't get it at the time, but later I figured it was because of that potion."

I frowned. How had he known about the potion? He'd even known when I'd started taking it, even though I hadn't told him. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had done some research -

"Zabulon told me," he said, as if he'd read my mind. "I was driving out of the site and I looked in my rearview and saw him sitting in the backseat." He grimaced. "I told him to go to hell, but he kept hanging around, and he...told me some stuff."

I thought about asking what else Zabulon had said, but I figured I could guess. He'd never liked me, so he'd probably taken the chance to tell Vesik all about my failings.

I turned away, feeling strangely exposed. Vesik hardly knew me, but he'd guessed the truth about the visions even before I had. What else had he figured out about me?

But all that paled when compared to the fact that Marten Vesik _needed my help._

Or rather, he was claiming to, because it was obviously some kind of ruse. There was no way that someone with no investigative experience could just stroll onto a murder case and pick things up the way he had. And….well, I didn't look down on tradespeople or anything like that, but if he really was that clever, he'd be off making billions on the stock market or curing diseases. 

No, it was definitely a plot. But if I refused to work with him, I'd have both Zabulon and Gesar after me for ‘obstructing the investigation’. I'd have to pretend to go along with it, but not actually tell him anything important. 

"Well...knowing about the other victims gives us more to work with," I began. "We can use that to predict the killer's next move." 

"You mean like what kind of person he goes for?" Vesik frowned. "I got them to look up these guys. They've all got criminal records, and they were mixed up with the mob. Maybe it's a gang thing."

Shit, he’d even looked up all the victims. Was there anything he hadn't thought of? At this rate, Gesar was going to be offering him my job. 

"That's not what I meant," I said. "You’re still thinking in human terms. Vampires are different."the

I went into my room and started shuffling through the heap of papers on my desk. I grabbed my large map of Moscow and a box of thumbtacks and hurried out again.

When I came out again, Vesik was standing by the kitchen table, staring disdainfully at the posters on the walls. He had taken off his sweater and dumped it on one of my chairs. He was wearing a loose-fitting black t-shirt, but you could still tell that he had broad shoulders and was in pretty decent shape. Not that I cared. 

Scowling, I went over to my corkboard and spread out the map, pinning it at the corners. Vesik wandered over and peered over my shoulder. “What’s that for?”

He was standing too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. Probably trying to intimidate me, but I wasn't going to back down.

“To mark where the victims were found,” I said. “Vampires are very territorial, they usually have a preferred hunting ground where they like to feed. So if we can figure out where it is -”

“There isn’t one,” Vesik interrupted. “Didn’t you see the addresses on the autopsy reports? They’re all over the place.”

“Well, I’d like to check it out and see. Can you read me the addresses?”

Muttering to himself, he picked up the files and flipped through them. "The cops found the first one in front of a church. The Temple of the Resurrection of Christ."

The name seemed familiar; I was pretty sure it was somewhere in Sokol'niki district. I examined that part of the map, squinting to make out the symbols. Did this map have churches on it?

“You don’t know where that is, do you?”

“Stop distracting me!” I snapped. I’d come back to that one later. I’d start with the most recent one, Komsomolskiy 33...I found Komsomolskiy Prospekt on the map and followed it with my finger....

“Here,” I said, and stuck a pin into the map. 

Vesik snorted. “That’s not Komsomolskiy 33. You’re too far west.”

“You find it, then, if you’re so clever!”

He glanced at me sideways and smirked. “Okay. Sure."

Before I could protest, he took the box of pins out of my hand and nudged me out of the way. It felt a bit like being elbowed by a brick wall, assuming that the wall had elbows. He pulled out the pin and pointedly stuck it in further down. “That’s where it is,” he informed me. “Did you just move to Moscow yesterday, or what?”

“It’s your own job site,” I shot back. “Of course you know where it is. The next one is -”

“Temple of the Resurrection....here we go.” He stuck a pin in, not far from where I'd been looking. “The next guy was found in the Udal'tsovskie Pond…that's here...Myaznitsky Proezd 4, that's somewhere around here...and that’s it.”

I stared. “How do you know where all those are?”

He looked at me as if he suspected I might be making fun of him, and shrugged. “I did a lot of road repair jobs,” he muttered. “You get to know your way around. And look, you can see they're nowhere near each other."

Sure enough, the pins were scattered all over the city. There was one in Sokol'niki in the north-east, one in Vernadskovo Prospekt District to the south-west, and the rest spread out in between. It wasn’t the usual situation, in which all the killings are clustered around a particular area. But something about it was nagging at me.

I gazed at the map, ignoring Vesik’s increasingly irritated noises. There was something there, something about the way the pins were arranged, almost in a line…

A line...

“That’s it!” I exclaimed. “I’ve got it!” 

“What? What is it?” 

“Just a moment!” I said. I wanted to make sure my idea made sense before announcing it. I hurried back into my room and rummaged around until I found what I needed.

Vesik greeted me impatiently when I got back. “There you are. What the hell have you got there?” 

"A scale map of the Metro," I said, holding it up against the city map. "Notice anything?"

Vesik scowled. "What am I supposed to notice?"

It would be easier if I could show him, only I didn't want to ruin my map.

"Have you got anything to write with?" I asked. "Carpenter's chalk or something like that?"

He narrowed his eyes and rummaged in his pockets, fishing out a piece of yellow chalk. I grabbed it and lightly drew a line across the city map. 

Vesik was not impressed. "So you're saying the vampire hunts in a straight line? You didn't even connect the dots properly."

"It's a line of best fit," I said. "Come on, look again. Don't you notice anything?" I held up the Metro map in front of him for comparison.

He frowned, glancing between the two maps. "Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “That line you drew...it matches one of the Metro lines, right?"

I couldn't help feeling a bit pleased with myself. “That’s right,” I said. “All the victims were found near Metro stations on the Sokol'nicheskaya line. It’s possible that he’s picking out his victims on the train, and then following them out.” Or maybe even leading them out with the Call. If the vampire was doing it underground, that could explain why I hadn’t heard it… “So what do you think? Is that a possibility?” 

He scowled. “Four victims doesn’t prove anything,” he muttered. “But the Metro could be a start.” 

I realized that that was probably the closest he’d ever come to agreeing with me, and smiled a little. And then I remembered that I had decided not to tell him anything important, and then blurted out a major lead. What was wrong with me?

Much to my dismay, he didn’t leave right away. He just stood there smoking and silently judging me.

"Well, I don't want to hold you up," I said pointedly. "I'm sure you want to go home."

He frowned. "I'm not going home yet."

"Okay, well, you've got to go somewhere," I muttered. "I'm going out on patrol."

"Yeah, and I'm coming with you."

"You're _what?"_ I stared at him. "No. Absolutely not."

Vesik’s eyes flashed. “You missed the Call last week and last night too. How do I know you won’t miss something tonight?” 

"I won't!" I snapped. "And I can't do my job if I have to worry about what you're up to!"

"You still think I'm up to something? I gave you all the information you have!"

I ground my teeth together and tried another tack. "Listen, going on shift isn't exactly a great time," I told him. "It's twelve hours of fighting off vampires and werewolves...and you didn't get any sleep today, did you?"

He glowered at me. "That's another thing. I need to make sure you're actually awake the whole time."

That son of a bitch....

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths. If Gesar had approved his presence, there was no way I could get rid of him. Arguing would just waste time. But if I brought him along, he might let down his guard and give me some hint of what his motives were.

And besides, I had to admit ...when he forgot to argue with me, he was actually pretty useful.

"Fine," I growled. "Come along if you want. And don’t blame me if something eats you.”


	7. The Arrest

It was seven sharp when we left my building. As soon as I pushed open the door, a gust of icy wind hit me in the face and cut straight through my jacket. I jammed my hands into my pockets. It was nearly dark and the streets were emptying out as people made their way home. Lucky bastards.

I started out into the cold night and Vesik followed. Despite his heavy boots, his steps were almost silent. He loomed in my peripheral vision like a large, scowling ghost. 

We went into Belorusskaya station and got onto a train towards the centre. Vesik said very little, apparently lost in gloomy reflections of his own. I wasn’t keen on setting him off again, so I kept quiet.

It wasn’t too crowded on the train. There was an old woman with a wheeled shopping cart sitting at one end and a guy and his young kid towards the middle. At the other end were a handful of kids who looked like they might have come from the university. I scanned their auras quickly. Humans, all of them.

We had plenty of space because no one wanted to get near Vesik. A Dark One’s aura puts humans on edge, and they tend to avoid them without knowing why. But then, the look on his face alone would have been enough to frighten anyone off. He kept shooting me withering glances, no doubt thinking about what an idiot I was.

I put in my headphones, switched on my Walkman, and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at him. 

The music echoed in my ears and I tried to forget about Vesik and everything else. Since my first hunt, I’d gotten better at tracing the Call. I could pick it up at a further range, and was usually able to get a pretty good idea of where the vampire and the victim were located. But I still needed to concentrate and tune out distractions, and the music helped quite a lot.

The song ended and a new one began. I recognized ‘Star Called Sun’ by Kino and winced. As a teenager, I'd had a somewhat confusing obsession with Viktor Tsoi that I'd tried not to think too much about. I could still remember how miserable I had been when he died. Hard to believe it had already been almost ten years -

“ _ Hey!  _ What the fuck are you doing?”

I groaned and opened my eyes. Vesik was looking at me with outraged disbelief.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded. “Are you sleeping?”

I felt my blood pressure rising and took a deep breath. Was this why Zabulon had put him on the case? To increase my risk of heart failure?

“I’m not sleeping,” I ground out. “I’m trying to sense the vampire.”

“With your eyes closed? And how can you hear the Call if you’re listening to this garbage?”

“I don’t need my ears to hear it,” I snapped. “The music helps to tune out distractions.” Like idiots who wouldn’t stop talking.

That shut him up for a while, and I closed my eyes again. But we hadn’t even reached the next station when he spoke up again. 

“What if a werewolf gets on?” he asked. “Or someone jumps you while you’re napping. Are you just expecting me to save you?”

“I already told you I’m not sleeping,” I said wearily. “I can sense everyone who gets onto the train. And if someone tried to attack me, I’d sense that too.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right."

“It’s true,” I sighed. “Look, if we’re attacked, just stay out of the way and let me handle it. I don't feel like filling out all the paperwork when you get killed."

"What, you think I can't handle myself in a fight?"

I ignored him. Really, I hadn't even needed to warn him. Dark Ones always look out for themselves, and if something unsavoury happened, he’d get himself out of harm’s way without being told. 

Vesik eyed me narrowly, as if I could guess what he was thinking, but then he shook his head and turned away, muttering to himself in Estonian.

When we reached Teatralnaya station, we had to change to the Sokolnicheskaya line. We went through the vestibule into one of the connecting stations, and found our platform. 

It was nearly empty by that time, just a couple of tired-looking commuters standing around, and a young woman with her arms loaded with shopping bags. A child, maybe four years old, was running in circles around her and squealing, ignoring her weary admonitions to come and sit on the bench.

Vesik muttered something under his breath. I glanced at him and saw that he had turned away, an ugly look on his face.

“What’s your problem?” I said. “Don’t like kids?”

“Fuck off!”

I shook my head and glanced at my watch. It hadn't even been an hour - this shift felt like it was going on forever. I hoped we’d be able to catch the killer soon - I figured that fighting a rogue vampire wouldn’t be as bad as spending another shift in the company of Marten Vesik.

I could hear the rumble of a train approaching. Good - we'd be able to get moving soon, and we'd find out if the vampire really was hunting on the train - 

“ _ Jesus Christ!”  _

I heard a scream and then a shouted curse, nearly drowned out by the roar of the train. I spun around. 

Vesik was standing by the edge of the platform and holding the struggling child. The child thrashed and howled. Behind them, the carriages flashed by as the train came screeching to a halt.

" _ Hey!"  _ I shouted, breaking into a run. "Put the kid down!"

Vesik ignored me and stormed towards the young woman. I called up an attack spell, but I couldn't cast it at him without hitting the child. He stood the kid roughly on his feet and shoved him towards the young woman.

“ _ Sit down!”  _ he roared. “And don't fucking move!”

The child was crying too hard to answer. He ran to his mother and buried his face in her coat. 

Vesik turned away in disgust and tried to push past me.

“Hey!” I grabbed his arm. “What are you -”

“Fuck off!” He shook me off and gave me a shove, so hard that I stumbled back a couple of steps, and stormed off down the platform. 

I hurried over to the young woman, who was staring after him with tears streaming down her face. 

“Is your son all right?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite my fury. “I'm sorry about him. He's completely out of line. I’ll be sure to report this -.”

“What?” She blinked and seemed to notice me for the first time. “He didn’t hurt him. Vova nearly fell off the edge of the platform...your friend caught him…come on, Vova, let’s go!” 

Dragging her wailing son by the hand, she hurried onto the train. I watched her go, and realized that it was going to leave without me. Vesik was already making his way to the next carriage. I ran after him and managed to jump on just before the doors closed.

Vesik was seated right at the back, with his head lowered and his face turned away. His entire posture was rigid and his hands were in fists at his sides. He didn’t acknowledge me when I sat down beside him. 

I looked at him curiously, thinking about what the woman had said. |If he really was trying to help the child, why didn’t he say so? It wasn’t unheard of for Dark Ones to do good deeds, but they made damn sure that everyone knew about it.

“Why did you grab that kid?” I asked. 

He didn’t look up. “Why do you think?”

“That woman said you stopped him from running off the platform,” I said. “But what’s in it for you? You don’t even like kids.”

He glanced up, and I saw a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I want to watch one get hit by a fucking train.”

“Plenty of other Dark Ones would,” I snapped. “Why did you have to shout like that? You scared the poor kid half out of his mind.”

“He should be fucking scared. Maybe next time he’ll stand still.”

He turned away again, and I could sense that it would be a bad idea to ask him any more questions. I sighed, wondering if I would ever figure out what he was up to. Everything he did just raised more questions. 

We rode for a few hours without seeing anything of note. I was starting to get anxious. What if I’d been wrong? What if the locations were a coincidence, and the vampire wasn’t really hunting on the Metro? I’d be back where I’d started - in fact, I’d be worse off, because now I had Vesik to worry about.

By around midnight, it was clear that Vesik was starting to feel the lack of sleep. He kept shaking himself as if he were trying not to nod off, and he couldn’t quite manage to keep from yawning. Even though there were plenty of free seats, he got up and held onto the bar - presumably because it was harder to fall asleep standing up. I knew that Light Ones shouldn’t indulge in  _ schadenfreude,  _ but I couldn’t help thinking that it served him right.

“Tired?” I asked, glancing up at him. 

He didn’t look at me, but his jaw tightened. “No.”

“Because you look like you’re having trouble staying awake -”

I saw that he was slowly turning red. “Gorodetsky...shut up.”

I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but I couldn’t stop myself. I looked up and gave him a pleasant smile. “Do you see now why people might need to sleep in the daytime -”

“Hey! _ ”  _ Suddenly he was looming over me, so close that our knees were pressed together. He grabbed the front of my jacket and leaned closer. “Think you’re fucking funny, do you?”

I wanted to say something cool and unconcerned, but my voice seemed to have stopped working. Then there was a screech and a tremendous jerk as the train pulled into the station. Vesik was flung off balance and had to grab the handrail to keep from falling over. I didn’t even bother trying to hide my grin, and he gave me a look that should have incinerated me on the spot. 

As soon as the train came to a stop, I stood up and made for the doors. 

“Let’s get off here,” I said. “Look around outside for a change.” I was suddenly tired of sitting on the train, and I was beginning to feel rather overheated. 

I stepped out onto the platform, glancing behind me to make sure he was following. The fresh air would probably wake him up a bit, but I hadn’t come out just because of that. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but I felt sure that we weren’t going to find anything on the train. At least, not tonight. 

We came out of the station and picked a direction at random. The streets had emptied out almost completely and the night sky was dark and heavy with clouds. The wind rustled in the branches of the trees, rattling the last few dried leaves still clinging on. There was hardly any sound except the faint roar of distant traffic.

Everything was quiet - it seemed that all the Dark Ones in the city were sleeping too. Except for one, I thought, glancing at Vesik. He looked even more forbidding at night, with the streetlamps casting dark shadows on his face. 

“Fucking stupid idea to come outside,” he muttered. “Going to rain soon.”

“If it rains, we can go back inside.”

We walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Then a bright red convertible roared by, loud music blaring from the speakers. 

“Rich people’s kids,” Vesik said in disgust, staring after it. “Fucking useles. Someone should make them get a fucking job.” 

I suppressed a sigh. I was starting to regret making fun of him, because he was even more ill-tempered than before. The fresh air didn’t seem to have improved his disposition at all.

After fifteen minutes of listening to his grumbling, I was desperate for a reprieve. Then we came to a 24-hour convenience store, and I saw my chance. 

Vesik stayed outside smoking while I went in. I picked up a lemonade for myself, hesitated, and grudgingly bought him a chocolate bar and a bottle of cola. It was only for the purpose of keeping him awake - a drowsy agent was a danger to everyone around him.

When I went outside, Vesik wasn’t where I’d left him. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. 

Cursing under my breath, I started walking in the direction we’d come. It was just like him to go wandering off alone. It was still the night after Halloween, and a hungry werewolf wouldn’t hesitate to attack a Dark One, especially an untrained one like Vesik....

Still no sign of him, but I thought I could sense his presence. I followed it and found him in an alleyway, with his back turned to me. I cast a Sphere of Inattention on myself and crept closer. 

He was saying something. I strained to hear it, and soon realized that it wasn’t Russian. Probably Estonian. Most likely because he didn’t want to be overheard. 

I knew there was another Estonian working for the Day Watch, a guy called Edgar. Maybe Vesik had given him a call. But how? He wasn’t holding a mobile phone, and he didn’t seem like the type to have one of those hands-free headsets. I inched forward, and had to bite back an exclamation when I saw his companion. 

It was a cat. A huge black cat was sitting on a pile of crates and gazing up at him adoringly. Vesik was scratching it behind the ears and the creature was purring like an outboard motor. And as for Vesik...he wasn’t exactly smiling, but he looked more....relaxed, and less murderous than I had ever seen him. 

I don’t know how long I stood there, transfixed by the sight. But then I managed to make out the words  _ Gorodetsky  _ and  _ idiot,  _ and I suddenly felt cold all over as I realized my mistake.

What a dunce I was! Of course he wasn’t just petting a stray cat. What was the matter with me? Hadn’t I spent all of last night chasing shapeshifters and werewolves all over town? And I’d missed one sitting right in front of me. Anyone could see that creature was far too fat to be a stray! 

Neither of them had noticed me yet. I called up a series of attack spells, stepped forward. and cancelled my disguise. 

“Night Watch!” I shouted. “Leave the Twilight!”

_ “Holy shit!”  _

Vesik spun around as the cat yowled and shot off down the alley. I cast a Summoning spell just as it was about to vanish around the corner. An invisible hand grabbed the creature, yanked it up off the ground and hauled it back towards me.

Screeching, the cat sailed through the air. As it got closer, it twisted in midair and launched itself at me. Sharp claws raked my face. When I tried to fend it off, it bit down on my hand. Cursing, I grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and dragged it off. It hissed and spat at me, its tail bristling like a bottle-brush.

“Glare all you like,” I snarled. “You’re under arrest!”

I rounded on Vesik and thrust the cat towards him. He recoiled as the creature lashed out with its claws. 

“Gorodetsky, what the fuck -”

“What were you doing?” I shouted. “Who is this? Is it Edgar?”

“ _ Edgar?  _ What the hell -” He backed away, staring at me with wide eyes. “It’s a stray, I don’t know what its fucking name is -”

“Don’t play stupid!” The cat twisted in my grip and I nearly dropped it. “Tell him to transform!”

“Transform into what? It’s a fucking cat!”

He had some nerve, I thought grimly. I was a real idiot to think he cared about solving the case. All the while, he was working on some scheme of his own, and having secret meetings with shapeshifters.

“Fine, then,” I said through gritted teeth. “Don’t tell me. I’ll find out anyway.”

I cast Unmask, the spell to force a shapeshifter into their human form. The cat howled in rage, but remained otherwise unchanged. I tried it again, and nothing happened. Finally, I closed my eyes and looked at the creature through the Twilight. It really seemed to be an ordinary cat.

Vesik was still staring at me. “I don’t get it. Do...do you think someone put a curse on the cat or something?”

I didn’t answer. I was beginning to feel like a real idiot. The cat was still hissing at me and my arm was getting tired from holding it up.

“It can't be a regular cat!” I snapped, grasping at straws. "He must be disguising his aura. A stray wouldn't be so well-fed. It’s got to be that Edgar fellow, he’s a big guy and he’s got black hair, so of course he would turn into a black cat, and…”

I realized how unhinged I must sound and fell silent. 

“Looks like you’ve got it all worked out,” Vesik said dryly. “Except Edgar isn’t a shapeshifter. And even if he was, I don’t think he’d turn himself into a girl cat.”

My stomach dropped. "A-a girl?"

I checked under the cat’s tail and saw to my horror that he was right. The cat’s distended abdomen twitched, and I took a closer look at the aura. Sure enough, there were three more auras, tiny and faint, curled up inside of it. 

Shit.

“Light and Dark,” I groaned. “It’s a female. And she’s pregnant.”

That proved it beyond all doubt. Only living creatures had auras, and it was impossible to create life by magical means. Even for the Great Ones. 

Completely mortified, I lowered the cat to the ground. She gave me a look of pure hatred before stalking off down the alley. I turned to watch her go, postponing the moment when I would have to turn around and face Vesik.

The silence behind me was deafening. I waited for him to start shouting at me, but nothing happened. And then I heard a laugh.

I turned around, unable to believe it, and sure enough, he was laughing quietly and shaking his head.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, his tone almost amazed.“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

"It’s not funny,” I mumbled, wishing I could sink into the ground.

Despite my utter humiliation, I couldn’t help noticing how different he looked when he laughed - his eyes lit up and the harsh edges of his face seemed softer, and if he was anyone else, I would have said he was almost -

“Enough standing around,” I snapped, pushing past him. “Let’s get back on the metro.”


End file.
